The Path Not Taken
by writergirljenn
Summary: What if Jax had kept his promise to Tara and left Charming with her and the boys? Picking up where season six left off, we see how things might have turned out differently if Jax and Opie had left the MC after Jax's release from prison in season four/episode one. *Adult/Mature Content* SOA and all characters/storylines are the intellectual property of the brilliant Kurt Sutter.
1. Chapter 1

Jax could feel Tara's blood soaking through his shirt as he held her in his arms. With his hands tangled in her matted hair and his tears falling onto her face as he kissed her and begged her to wake up, he knew she was gone. Still, he couldn't help but watch for the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelids- any sign of life. But there was none. Tara was dead. Someone had suddenly and savagely stolen Jax's entire reason for living from him. But who? And why? He couldn't worry about that now. Nor could he worry about the way DA Patterson was eyeing him, the lone survivor in a room full of carnage. She would try to pin this on him, he was sure. That was fine. It was his fault, after all. He knew that. Nothing mattered anymore anyway, except Tara- his beautiful, courageous wife. He'd been estranged from her for so long, but they'd finally found their way back to each other. And now…

The smell of blood was so thick, Jax was nearly choking on it. It was everywhere. His chest ached as he sobbed, and it felt as if his soul was being torn from his body. He had known pain, many times, but this was different. There would be no recovering from this. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the blood-stained kitchen cupboard. He fought the urge to pass out.

"Daddy?" came a small voice from across the room. "Daddy, are you alright?" Abel. _Oh God, Abel._ He couldn't see his mother like this. He couldn't see his father like this. What would Jax say to him? After how hard he'd fought to protect his children their entire lives, he couldn't protect them from this.

"Abel," he moaned, opening his eyes. He was surprised by how bright the room had suddenly become. The light hurt his eyes, and he squinted instinctively.

"Hi, Daddy," Abel answered, an excited giggle escaping his lips as he ran from the doorway to the king-sized bed his father was laying in. Jax clutched his sweat-covered chest with a shaky hand and let out a ragged breath. It was just a dream.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed. He lifted the blankets so Abel could climb under the covers with him.

"What's wrong?" his little boy asked as he cuddled into his father's side. Jax wrapped one arm tightly around his son.

"Just a bad dream, buddy," he explained, kissing Abel's forehead.

"Ohhhh," Abel said, patting his father's bare chest sympathetically with his tiny hand. "I'm sorry, Dad. Like with monsters or somethin'?" Jax smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Something like that…" His voice trailed off as he stared out his bedroom window into the back yard, an acre of rolling hills and giant trees and peace and quiet. But he couldn't shake the gruesome image of his wife lying dead by his mother's hand from his mind, nor any of the other things that happened in his dream- losing Opie, killing Clay, Piney's murder, the clubhouse being bombed. In the three years since leaving Charming, Jax had often wondered what life would be like if he'd stayed. He couldn't imagine things would have ever gotten that extreme, but if there was even a chance…

"Mommy said you need to get up now," Abel said, crawling out from under the covers and hopping out of the bed. "They'll be here soon."

"Right," Jax nodded. He sat up in bed, stretching his arms wide as he yawned. "Hey Abel," he called after his son, who was already halfway down the hall.

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday."


	2. Chapter 2

Jax sat at the edge of his bed for a moment, still trying to calm his nerves. How long had he been asleep? It felt as if he'd dreamt years' worth of events in just a few hours. He stood up, pulling his disheveled boxers back up toward his perfectly toned hips. He was finally getting used to sleeping with them on. Tara had nixed the whole "sleeping in the nude" thing a couple months prior, after Thomas went running into their bedroom in the middle of the night following a bad dream, and was thankfully too tired to notice that daddy was completely naked. Jax and Tara had lain there, wide eyed, their son between them, equal parts amused and mortified, waiting for Thomas to fall back to sleep so that Jax could sneak out of bed and put clothes on. Tara had let a giggle escape when she caught a glimpse of Jax's naked silhouette in the moonlight as he tiptoed to the closet. Jax smiled at the memory.

He made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his weary face. Icy droplets slid from his chin to his rock hard chest and washboard abs. He ran his wet hands through his short, sandy blonde hair, then shook out the excess water, letting out an invigorated sigh as he did so. His short hair was much easier to manage than the long locks he'd kept for so many years, but sometimes he missed his long hair. Sometimes he missed a lot of things. But that was another life. He was a different person now.

He grabbed one of the dozen or so white t-shirts he kept in his top dresser drawer and slipped it on, then grabbed a pair of jeans out of the clothes hamper, shook them out, and put them on. Tara would never approve of him wearing clothes from the dirty laundry pile, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Jax figured if secrets like that were all he was keeping from her these days, he was doing pretty good.

He stumbled sleepily down the hall, still in a fog from his unspeakable nightmare, toward the scent of bacon. He froze when he reached the kitchen. The sight of Tara standing at the sink took his breath away, and not in the "holy shit, my wife is hot" way it usually did. For a split second, Jax was back in his nightmare. There was blood filling the sink, dripping down the walls, pooled on the floor. Tara's blood. Every last drop of it. He leaned into the wall, his knees feeling weak.

"Daddy!" Thomas cooed from his booster seat, chewing on a piece of pancake. Jax smiled. Tara turned around, an amused smirk on her face.

"Well hello there, sleepy head," she teased. _God, she's beautiful,_ Jax thought. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her t-shirt was splattered with dish water, and there wasn't an ounce of make-up on her porcelain skin. Jax was overcome with emotion. He made his way to her swiftly, enveloping her in his strong arms. "Good morning to you, too," she laughed. Jax breathed in her scent, which was currently that of syrup, bacon, and dish soap. He paid attention to the way her heart beat against his, and reveled in the sound of her breathing. She pulled away just slightly. "You okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she studied her husband's face.

"Yeah, babe," Jax assured her. "I'm fine." Tara reached up on her tip-toes, brushed her lips against her husband's, then turned away to tend to her half-washed dishes. Jax was caught off guard. Tara's lips felt like fire on his, as he recalled how cold and lifeless they'd been when he kissed her in his dream. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her back around, kissing her passionately. He wanted so badly to take her right there in the kitchen- to slip her plaid pajama pants down around her ankles, lift her up onto the countertop, and slide himself inside her- to grab her by the hair and fuck away those horrible images from that horrible nightmare. But the giggles and "ewwwws" coming from across the kitchen table as he kissed his wife reminded him that they had an audience. He released Tara, biting his lip to try to keep from kissing her again. She knew what that look meant. And she had a hard time resisting it.

"What has gotten into you this morning?" she asked, still breathless. Jax leaned in close, his lips against her ear.

"I want to make love to my wife," he breathed. He felt the goosebumps come to life on Tara's flesh under his touch. He loved that he still had such an effect on her after all these years.

"Well that's a nice thought," she laughed, trying to resist the look of temptation in her husband's sparkling blue eyes, "but we've got a lot to do today. Ope and Lyla are going to be here soon with…" she stopped herself.

"Our surprise!" Abel finished, throwing his hands in the air. Jax turned to his son and lifted him into his arms, flying him through the air like a tiny, human-shaped airplane.

"_Our_ surprise? How come it's your birthday and I'm getting a surprise?" he asked, setting Abel back down in his seat. Abel shrugged his shoulders and went back to his birthday breakfast- a plate piled high with bacon. The kid would eat his weight in bacon if they let him. "Thomas, do you know what the surprise is?" Jax asked his youngest son, whose cheeks were sticky with syrup. The toddler shook his head emphatically, a huge grin on his face. Jax turned to his wife. "Babe?"

"Like I've been telling the birthday boy all week, you'll just have to be patient," she scolded. "Thomas, are you done eating?" He nodded. She threw the dish towel she was holding over her shoulder and released Thomas from the confines of his booster seat, hoisting him into her arms. "Let's go get you cleaned up," she said, planting a kiss on his on top of his head.

"I'm done too, Mom!" Abel announced, jumping down from the table.

"Okay, Mr. Five-Year-Old, let's go get you cleaned up, too." Jax watched as his family disappeared down the hall, his heart feeling as though it might burst. Not a day went by that Jax wasn't thankful for the life and the family and the second chance that God had given him, but on this day, his oldest son's fifth birthday, he was more sure than ever that leaving SAMCRO was the best decision he ever made.


	3. Chapter 3

Jax was finishing up washing the last of the breakfast dishes when he heard a car pull in the driveway. He wondered if there would ever come a time that he wouldn't feel uneasy at the sound of approaching visitors. For so many years, his home was frequented by police officers looking to arrest him and enemies looking to harm him and his family- he was finding constant apprehension to be one of his hardest habits to break.

Out of habit, he reached his hand into the back of his jeans, where he kept his gun for so long. But it wasn't there. It was in his bedroom, in a locked box on the top shelf of his closet, where it had been for the past three years. (Save for the times Jax took it out to clean and inspect it.) He couldn't remember the last time he'd fired it. Abel came running down the hall, Tara following closely behind him with Thomas in her arms.

"They're here! They're here!" Abel exclaimed as Thomas clapped his chubby little hands in excitement. Tara caught Jax's worried gaze. She pretended not to notice his strained expression, just like she always did when he was unnecessarily concerned. She knew how much he still struggled with his demons. She motioned for him to follow her and the boys, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Well come on, Mr. Teller," she teased. "Your surprise is here."

"Right behind you, Mrs. Teller," he answered, following her and the boys out the front door. He breathed easy when he recognized the black Lincoln Navigator in the driveway.

"Uncle Opie!" Abel yelled, running toward Jax's best friend. Most children went running in the opposite direction from bearded giants covered in tattoos, but Abel Teller wasn't most children. And his family was comprised of a number of questionable characters, including the blonde-haired porn star turned soccer mom he knew as Aunt Lyla.

Jax sauntered toward his friend's truck, high fiving each of the Winston kids as they hopped out of the back seat and headed into the house. They were big fans of the boys' massively overstocked playroom. He gave Lyla a quick squeeze and then grabbed Opie in a huge bear hug, kissing him on his coarse, bearded cheek.

"Thanks for coming, brotha," he said, trying to shake the image of Opie's brains being bashed in with a lead pipe from his mind. He would definitely have to discuss this dream with his therapist if he was ever going to get past it. When he released Opie from his tight grip, he realized that Opie, Tara, and Lyla were all staring at him with the same confused expression.

"Don't mind him, he's a little off today," Tara explained. "I think he's feeling sentimental about Abel turning the big f-i-v-e." She rubbed her husband's back comfortingly. Jax smiled and nodded, thankful for the explanation, even if it was wrong.

"Oh, I don't mind," Lyla crooned. "I haven't given Ope a blow job yet today, you're welcome to it if you'd like, Jax." Tara covered Thomas' ears, albeit way too late, and shot Lyla a dirty look. Jax laughed. You could take the girl out of porn, but you couldn't take the porn out of the girl. Lyla ignored Tara's glare and reached for Thomas. "There's my big boy! Come see me!" Thomas all but lunged into Lyla's arms. He was completely infatuated with her. Most little boys were. Hell, so were most big boys.

"Happy Birthday, my main man," Opie said, scooping Abel into his arms. "Papa Winston told me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it. He had business is Vegas this weekend."

"Business, eh? Is that what Piney's calling it now?" Jax chuckled. Opie shook his head apologetically.

"Oh, and Abel," Opie added, "he said he'd give you a hundred bucks next time he sees you."

"Hell yeah," Jax said. "Now we're talkin'. Now where's this big surprise?" He tried to peer past Opie into the truck, thinking his surprise would be wrapped in a shiny package with a neat little bow like one of Abel's birthday gifts. He didn't notice when a young girl appeared from behind the truck.

"Well Jesus, Jackson, what does a girl gotta do to get a little help around here?" He knew the thick Irish accent instantly.

"Trinity?!" He was shocked. "Hooooly _shit_!" His sister dropped her bags and ran to him, giving him a long hug. They talked all the time, she even video chatted with the boys, but it had been nearly five years since they'd seen each other in person. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to work on my tan," she said, turning one very pale Irish arm over in the sunlight. "I came to see my nephews, what do ya think?" She pressed her hands to her heart as she approached Abel, in disbelief over how much he'd grown. "Can I give you a hug?" she asked. He nodded timidly. "She squeezed his little body tightly, letting her arm linger around his waist. "Gee. Last time I saw ye you were just a wee baby," she told him, the Belfast oozing from every syllable she spoke.

"Surprised?" Tara asked, wrapping an arm around Jax's waist. Jax shook his head, in total disbelief. Trinity turned to Thomas, who was clinging tightly to Lyla.

"Hi, Thomas," she said softly. "I'm your Aunt Trinity." Thomas buried his face in Lyla's mess of hair.

"He's shy," Jax explained apologetically.

"No worries," Trinity answered. "I've got all the time in the world."

"How much time, exactly?" Jax asked, suddenly very curious about the particulars of Trinity's trip.

"Not sure yet. Kerrianne came to spend some time with her da, and I decided to join her. Our stay is kind of open ended at this point."

"Did Chibs know you guys were coming?" he asked, wondering how his dear friend and his daughter were getting along.

"Oh, honey, everybody knew 'cept you and Abel," Lyla informed him. Jax reached up to stroke his almost non-existent beard, something he still did when he was at a loss for words, even though it had been nearly a year since he'd shaved off the bulk of his facial hair. Instead of the full beard he'd sported for so long, he grabbed a handful of stubble.

"Sorry, babe, but your little sister wanted to surprise you," Tara explained, patting Jax's shoulder. "Now come on, we've got a birthday party to get ready for. The rest of the family will be here soon." Tara led the charge into the house as Jax helped Trinity with her bags.

"This day just keeps gettin' better," he mumbled, biting his lip to fight back a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

"You think he'll show?" Opie asked as he attached another balloon to the helium tank. He and Jax had been tasked with blowing up the thousand blue balloons Tara had purchased for the party while the girls prepared food for the cookout in the kitchen.

"I don't know, man," Jax said, taking a long drag from the cigarette pinched between his knuckles. "Gemma's coming, so probably not, but you never know with Clay." If it was up to Jax, he wouldn't have invited his step-father at all, as their relationship had been strained ever since Jax made the decision to leave SAMCRO. But Abel had insisted on inviting the only grandfather he'd ever known to his fifth birthday party, and Jax didn't want to disappoint him.

"Think him and Gemma will be able to play nice if he does?" Opie started laughing as soon as the question was out of his mouth. The King and Queen of Charming were known for many things, but being nice wasn't one of them. Jax hoped, for Abel's sake, they would find a way.

Jax knew there would be repercussions when he separated from the motorcycle club it had been his birth right to someday inherit, but he never expected the breakdown of Clay and Gemma's marriage to be one of them. During his fourteen month stint at Stockton Prison for a bullshit arms charge that he blamed solely on his step-father, he had a lot of time to think. And during those long, sleepless nights on that concrete slab of a cot the good state of California provided him, his thoughts always turned to one thing- Tara. Tara and Abel and Thomas, the family he'd been blessed with even though he didn't deserve it. The family he needed to do better for.

All his life, the MC had been his family, and in a sense, they always would be. But he had a new family now, one that he was solely responsible for. It was his duty to support them, to protect them. And as he spent day after day in a filthy cell block with murderers and rapists while Abel grew from a baby into a boy, while Tara spent her nights alone in a bed that was too big for one person, and while Thomas was born and finding his way through his first year in this world without a father, Jax could no longer escape the harsh reality that he had to choose between his new family and his old one. The two men that he was- a family man and a gang member- could no longer coexist.

Seeing his boys and the woman he hoped to make his wife for the first time in over a year upon his release from prison only solidified his resolve to leave the MC. So when he proposed to Tara that morning with the ring his mother had picked out for him while he was still on the inside, he promised her the one thing she'd always wanted- a life free of SAMCRO. He told her that he had to tie up some loose ends, but by week's end he would tell Clay and Gemma of his decision- and then they would take the boys and leave Charming for good, regardless of what anyone had to say about it. Jax didn't answer to anyone anymore- not Clay, not Gemma, not the club. This was his life, and he would no longer sacrifice his happiness or the happiness of the three people who meant the most to him in order to maintain loyalty to a life he'd never chosen in the first place. He was born into SAMCRO, but he would be damned if he would die by its' hands.

He failed to tell Tara that the "loose ends" that needed tying up involved exacting revenge against the Russians who'd tried to have him killed in prison. In the shadows at Opie and Lyla's wedding reception that night, as he methodically stabbed to death the man who'd attempted to have the same done to him at Stockton, he vowed to himself that it would be his last kill. He would never again watch the light leave another man's eyes, or listen to someone take their last breath. As he pulled the knife from between the Russian pig's ribs the third and final time, he locked eyes with Clay.

"This is it," he breathed as blood pooled at his feet. "I'm done." Clay's face hardened.

"What the hell you mean you're done?" He took a threatening step toward Jax, but Jax didn't back down.

"I mean I'm done. No more." He slid off his cut, careful to only handle it with the gloved hand that wasn't covered in the Russian's blood, and pushed it toward Clay. "I'm out."

"Like hell you are," Clay growled, tossing the cut to Tig. "That ain't how this works. You know that." Jax planted his feet and balled his fists, one hand still wrapped around the knife he'd just used to kill the Russian.

"Well it's how this works for me," he said, thrusting the knife toward Clay. "This club has always been my family, but I have a new family now. Tara and the boys are my priority, and I've got to do what's best for them. So I'm done. I'm out of SAMCRO one way or another, old man. You either vote me out, or you kill me, right here, right now. And then my blood will be on your hands, and everyone will know it- Gemma, the club, your grandchildren."

Clay tried to hide his shock. The fact that he didn't see this coming was a testament to how thick his blinders were. This had been brewing since long before Stockton. Clay was the only one who'd been completely oblivious to it. He turned the knife over in his hand, contemplating his options. There was a part of him that wanted to plunge the dirty knife right into Jax's heart for his disrespect and betrayal. But he knew that wasn't a viable choice. He could feel the other club members behind him, ready to pounce on him if he made a move toward Jax. They would never forgive him. Gemma would never forgive him. Either way, his son was lost to him. He just had to choose whether he would allow the loss to stop there, or if he was going to add his marriage and the respect of his club to the list. He gritted his teeth. He didn't like being backed into a corner, but he had to admire the kid, in a way. Jax was smart, and for good reason. He'd been raised by a goddamn king.

"Fine," Clay snarled, hurling the knife to the ground. It stuck in the thick clay, just inches from the dead Russian's head. "You're out. But you better get to TM first thing in the morning and get your shit. I don't want to see it, or you, ever again. You're dead to me." He bumped Jax's shoulder with his own as he passed him, motioning for the rest of the club to follow. The guys passed Jax one by one, no one saying a word, but each locking eyes with him for a brief moment with expressions ranging from surprise to betrayal to respect to relief that Clay hadn't killed him where he stood.

Jax clenched his jaw, fighting back tears as he stood alone in the dark with the dead Russians. He knew he'd done the right thing, but that didn't mean it was easy. These were his brothers, and he'd turned on them. He didn't know if they would ever forgive him. But the piece of his own heart he'd just broken by betraying Clay and the club was a necessary evil. Tara and the boys were worth the sacrifice. He just had to remember that. He turned back toward the wedding reception, glad that Tara had left early to get home to the boys. He could see the lights and hear the music and the laughter, but it all felt so far away. That was no longer his family. He was no longer welcome there. He would have to talk to Opie and Gemma about his decision to leave SAMCRO another time, if someone else didn't tell them first.

He removed his blood-soaked gloves, scuffed the blood from the bottom of his shoes in the dirt, and started the long walk to the entrance of the reservation. Last he knew, there was still a police presence at the gate. Maybe he'd pop one of those assholes in the mouth and earn himself a free ride home, just to save on cab fare.


	5. Chapter 5

Gemma responded to the news that Jax was leaving SAMCRO exactly the way he expected her to- by showing up at his house in the middle of the night, yelling and banging on the door, sleeping babies be damned. She had a key, but what fun would letting herself in quietly to have a rational discussion with her son about his future have been?

Jax could still feel the sting on his face from where she'd slapped him, accusing him of being an ungrateful son of a bitch, when there was another knock on his door late the following morning. He got up from the kitchen table, where he'd been sitting since his mother left his house in tears hours earlier. He took his time making his way to the front door, stopping at the sink to dump out the ice cold cup of coffee he'd been staring at for hours without even taken a sip of. After fighting with Clay and his mother so badly the night before, he wasn't sure he was up for another round just yet.

Tara and the boys were out running errands, as Tara wanted to get her family out of Charming and away from SAMCRO as quickly as possible, before something happened to suck them back in. Seeing his wife-to-be so happy, so excited about the prospect of their future together for the first time since they'd rekindled their romance, made every single slap in the face, both literal and figurative, worth it to Jax.

He took a deep breath as he opened the door, praying it wasn't Gemma again. He was pretty sure, judging by the fact that the knocks weren't shaking the entire house, that it wasn't. He placed his free hand tentatively on the gun tucked into the back of his jeans, ready to greet his unwelcome visitor however he needed to.

"Ope," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. His best friend pushed past him into the house, not waiting for an invitation. Jax followed him into the kitchen. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon's over, brother," Opie informed him, his voice somber. He knew.

"Who told you?" Jax asked.

"Clay called an emergency meeting at my goddamn wedding reception after you broke the news to him," Opie explained.

"Jesus Christ," Jax moaned, resting his head in his hands as he sat across the kitchen table from Opie. "I'm sorry, man. I never meant to ruin your night."

"Yeah, well, that's the nature of the beast, right? I'm just glad one of the dead bodies piled up in the woods during my wedding reception wasn't yours." Jax let out a relieved chuckle. Opie cracked a slight smile. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, man?" Opie asked.

"I'm sorry, bro," Jax responded. "I was gonna tell you. I didn't intend for shit to go down the way it did last night, it just sort of happened. The last thing I wanted was to ruin your wedding, so I figured I'd wait until you got back from your honeymoon to talk to you."

"Well. I'm back. Talk to me."

"I gotta take care of my family, Ope. It's as simple as that." Opie let out a long, exasperated sigh. If anyone knew how completely this life could destroy a family, it was him. He'd done five years inside when his kids were little because of the club. He'd lost his wife, the mother of his children- not just because of the club, but at the hands of the club. Jax wasn't sure if those things would help Opie understand where he was coming from, or make him resent Jax that much more for getting out, considering that he stayed even after everything he'd been through.

"So how do we do this?" Opie asked. Jax looked up at Opie, confused.

"_We_?"

"Yeah. We." Opie took a deep breath. "Lyla and I were talking last night when we got back to the hotel after the reception. She could tell something was bothering me, so I told her about you turning on SAMCRO. I was pissed, you know, and I wanted her to be pissed, too. But she wasn't. She said that if you were getting out, I should take advantage of the opportunity and follow your lead. She doesn't want this life, Jax. It was okay when we were just dating, but we're married now. We've got three kids and are going to try to have a baby. And she told me that if I left SAMCRO, she'd quit doing porn." Lyla's questionable career choice had been a source of constant conflict between her and Opie. He wanted nothing more than for her to stop having sex with other men and women on camera for money.

"Are you serious?" Jax asked.

"Yeah, man. She wants us to turn over a new leaf together, I guess. A normal life for us and the kids. That was all Donna ever wanted, and I will never forgive myself for not giving it to her. If anything ever happened to Lyla or one of the kids, I…." Opie's words trailed off as he stared out the window, his expression dark. He always looked that way when he thought of Donna.

"Holy shit. We're really gonna do this?" Jax asked, laughing nervously.

"Looks like it," Opie said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Good luck tellin' Piney," Jax teased.

"You just worry about your own old man. Let me worry about mine," Opie shot back.

Jax and Opie had been raised together in the MC. They'd patched in together and been poised to someday take over together. It only made sense, Jax supposed, that they would abandon their legacy together.

Within a month's time, Jax, Tara and the boys were headed to a small town in Oregon just on the other side of the California state line, where Tara had been offered a job at the local hospital. Opie and Lyla, who had far fewer loose ends to tie up, were already there, setting up the small auto repair shop Jax and Opie had purchased together.

Before leaving Charming, Jax made amends with most of his SAMCRO brothers. Piney was surprisingly supportive of the boys' decision to leave the club, and encouraged the rest of the members to accept their decision and forgive them for it. He knew the MC had become something much different over the years than what the First 9 intended for it to be. He'd likely have made the same choice for his family if things had been this bad back then. But Clay would never understand, and he would never forgive either Jax or Opie. He banned them from Charming- a needless act as neither of them had any intention of ever returning, and forbade Gemma from having any contact with Jax.

And that's how the Morrows' marriage imploded. As furious as Gemma was with her son, he was still her son, and he was the one thing she loved more than the MC. She would not turn her back on him, ever. But Clay insisted that she choose- him or Jax, not expecting her to choose the way she did. After all, the last time she'd been faced with the choice between him and a Teller, Clay had come out victorious. Clay and Gemma still hadn't divorced, but they'd both moved on. Gemma moved into Jax and Tara's old house in Charming, and Clay didn't waste any time bringing a hungry crow eater into his bed. Jax felt incredibly guilty that his mother had been forced to sacrifice her marriage for his happiness, but collateral damage was unavoidable in the life she'd raised him in. She knew that all too well.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Jack_-sooon?"_ came a high pitched voice from behind Jax. Startled, he turned around to find Opie with a mouthful of helium, giggling like a chipmunk on speed. Jax punched him in the gut, forcing him to expel the helium from his lungs. Opie coughed.

"I was thinking about Gemma, jackass," Jax explained.

"Well speak of the devil," Opie choked out, still struggling to regulate his breathing. Jax turned toward the front of the house just in time to see a lipstick red Camaro veer into the driveway, kicking dirt and rocks into the peaceful afternoon air. "Mommy Dearest has arrived for the birthday festivities."

"Oh shit," Jax muttered, coming to a sudden realization. He dropped the bag of deflated balloons to the ground and bolted into the house, hoping to head his mother off at the front door. Gemma didn't do too well with surprises, and she was in for a hell of one.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Jax reached the front door, he could hear Gemma's stilettos clicking up the porch steps. He hurried outside to meet her.

"Hi, Mom," he said, embracing her. He hadn't seen her in months, and was surprised by how much he'd genuinely missed her. She smelled just like she always did- of cigarettes and the expensive perfume she'd been wearing for as long as Jax could remember.

"Hi, baby," she replied, hugging him tightly. "Where's my birthday boy?" She let go of Jax and moved toward the house, but Jax spun her around and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hoping to distract her.

"Hey, Wayne!" Jax called out, guiding his mother back down the porch steps and away from the house. She resisted at first, then decided a moment alone with her son wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"How's he doin'?" he asked Gemma as they made their way to Wayne, who was slowly walking toward the house, his arms full of gifts. Gemma had offered to help him, but Wayne was a stubborn, prideful man, even moreso the sicker he got.

"Still kickin'," Gemma said, smiling at Wayne as shielded her eyes from the sun with her free hand. Jax wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the fact that his mother was in a relationship with Wayne Unser, but he was trying.

Despite the weirdness, Jax had to admit that there was something refreshing about Unser and Gemma's bond. They genuinely loved each other. For Wayne, it was a romantic love. Jax suspected it had been ever since he and Gemma were kids. For Gemma, it was something different. She loved Unser as a friend, and felt a duty to take care of him during his final days after all he'd done for her and the club over the years. So when she moved out of Clay's house and into Jax and Tara's old place, she invited Wayne to upgrade from his tin can in the woods and move in with her. Being that he was battling end stage cancer, a sexual relationship was off the table, so Gemma was all too happy to let Wayne sleep in her bed and call her his girlfriend if it made him happy.

Jax was proud of his mom, in a way, for doing something so generous for somebody who could give her nothing in return. There were no ulterior motives involved, no hidden agendas- just two people giving each other comfort and normalcy after years of drama and violence and danger. Gemma was happy, and so was Wayne. So happy that he ignored the whispers around town about Gemma's secret affair with Tig. Jax shuddered at the thought. It was probably best for him not to put too much thought into his mom's fucked up love life. He was already paying enough money to his therapist.

Once they were far enough from the house that little ears couldn't hear the rant Gemma was likely to go on, Jax took a deep breath.

"Mom, we need to talk." Gemma put her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, turning to glare at her son. As Unser approached, Jax took the gifts he was holding from him. "Let me help you with those," he said. Unser looked offended.

"Thanks, son, but I had it." Jax smiled.

"I know you did, old man. Just tryin' to be a good host." Gemma linked her arm through Unser's and patted him on the shoulder. He was satisfied holding onto her instead of a pile of presents, so he let it go.

"Jackson," Gemma scolded, bringing the conversation back to topic. "What's going on?" Jax took a deep breath. There was no easy way to say it.

"Trinity's here." Gemma's face turned pale and she fixed her face into a scowl.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I didn't know she was comin' until she got here today. I guess Chibs' daughter came to visit him for a while and Trinity decided to come with her and surprise me." Gemma tapped her heel impatiently, trying to decide how to respond.

"What about her whore mother?" she sneered.

"Maureen's not here," Jax assured her. "Just Trinity. Can you be cool about it?" Gemma chuckled.

"Sweetheart, you don't need to be worried about me. You need to be worried about how your wife's going to handle having the sister you almost fucked sleeping under your roof." Unser choked on his surprise. Clearly, that wasn't a story Gemma had shared with him.

"Tara knows about me and Trinity, Mom," Jax explained.

"Really?" Gemma was skeptical. Jax nodded. "You told your wife that you almost cheated on her with your sister? What did that look like?"

"I didn't cheat on Tara, Mom," Jax insisted, annoyed. "And she's fine with it." He remembered the night he told Tara about what happened between him and Trinity in Belfast, before they found out they had a father in common. He and Tara were lying in bed, reveling in the aftermath of an intense love making session, talking about anything and everything. She started asking him questions about what Belfast was like, what John Teller's other family was like, and he knew he had to tell her.

He was so worried about her reaction, afraid she'd be horrified and disgusted. She was shocked at first, and stared at her husband for a good long minute before erupting in hysterical laughter. The more Jax insisted that there was nothing funny about it, the harder she laughed. One of the things Jax loved most about his wife was how unconditional her love for him was. He could literally tell her anything, even that he'd nearly had sex with his own sister, and she never judged him.

"Well hell," Gemma said, waving her hand in the air nonchalantly. "If Tara doesn't care, I don't care."

"You promise?" Jax pressed, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yes, Jackson, I promise." His mother slapped him playfully in the chest, then started the trek back toward the house, her arm still linked through Wayne's. Jax followed behind them with Abel's gifts.

"Just can't promise the same if your step-father shows up with that twat he's fucking," Gemma called back over her shoulder. Jax opened his mouth to object, but then thought better of it. He would deal with that nightmare if and when Clay bothered to show up.


	7. Chapter 7

Jax piled Abel's presents onto the gift table Tara had set up in the family room, then followed Gemma into the kitchen to make sure she played nice as Unser headed outside to find Opie. Gemma was civil to Tara most of the time now, as she'd had three years to get over Tara "stealing" her boys from her, but sometimes, well, Gemma was still Gemma.

Lyla was standing over the stove making hamburger patties and putting them on a tray to take out to the grill. Tara was at the counter, struggling to cut a massive watermelon into edible slices. From the sound of it, Trinity and the kids had made their way to the back yard.

"Let me do that," Gemma offered, reaching a hand out to Tara. Not a fan of accepting Gemma's help, Tara declined.

"I can handle it," Tara said as politely as she could manage. She tolerated Gemma, but only in small doses. Secretly, she wished Gemma had chosen her life with Clay over Jax and the boys. She knew it was selfish of her, but her mother-in-law had become one of her least favorite people. For as smart as Gemma was, she understood absolutely nothing about boundaries. Ignoring Tara, as she so often did, Gemma opened a drawer and started rummaging around.

"Here," she said, pulling out a giant carving fork and pointing it at Tara, "at least use this to steady the watermelon while you cut." Panic surged through Jax as he lunged at his mother, wide eyed, ripping the carving fork from her hand. Caught off guard, Gemma stumbled backward into the counter, nearly falling.

"Jax, what the hell?" Tara yelled. Jax looked at Tara, then at Gemma, then at Lyla, who was trying to stifle a laugh. He didn't know what to say. If he told them the real reason the sight of his mother holding a carving fork terrified him, they would think he was insane.

"Jesus, Mom, I'm sorry," he said, offering an apologetic smile. "I just uh…I used that. The other day. I was doing some work on my truck and I used that carving fork because I didn't have the tool I needed and I don't think I cleaned it well enough." All eyes in the room focused on the carving fork in his hand, which was practically sparkling with cleanliness. Just the sight of it made him nauseous. "Actually, you know what? I should have… I'm just gonna throw it away." Before anyone could protest, he shoved it into the garbage can, making sure to lodge it deep so that it couldn't be easily retrieved. "I'll get us a new one."

"Jax!" Tara was confused. And annoyed. And a bit concerned about her husband's mental health.

"Let's just….here. Mom, you take care of the watermelon," Jax said. He took the knife from Tara and handed it to Gemma, putting himself between his wife and his mother as he did so. "Lyla, take the burgers out to Ope, he can start the grill. Tara, I need to speak to you for a minute." He put his hand on the small of his wife's back and steered her down the hall and into their bedroom.

"Jax, what are you…" Tara began as Jax closed and locked the door behind him. His lips were on hers before she could finish her question.

"Ssshhh," he breathed, moving his lips to her neck as he slid his fingers under her bra strap and pulled it off her shoulder.

"Jax, we can't-"

"Tara," he interrupted her. "I. Need. My. Wife. Everyone's busy, Trinity's watching the boys. Now's the perfect time, before anyone else gets here." He slid her other bra strap down and kissed her shoulder, unhooking the back of her bra as he did so and letting it fall to the floor. As his lips traveled from Tara's shoulder to her breast, his tongue caressing her nipple and his free hand unbuttoning her jeans, Tara gave in to the temptation that she was constantly fighting. It was difficult being married to such an incredibly sexy man sometimes.

"Okay," she breathed, reaching her hands down to unbuckle his belt. Jax pulled Tara's shirt off over her head as her jeans fell to the floor. She kissed him, her tongue working against his as she slid her hand down his pants, grabbing onto the massive bulge that she longed to have inside her. She ran her tongue from Jax's lips to his neck, to his chest, down his muscular abs, until he was in her mouth. She sucked and licked as her husband moved against her, his hands tangled in her hair. She dug her nails into his perfectly sculpted ass, moving her head faster and faster as she took him deeper into her throat.

Jax pulled her back up by the hair, his lips on hers as he slid two fingers inside her, so turned on by how wet she was, he could hardly stand it. Tara moaned in delight, backing up toward the bed.

"Take me," she whispered. Jax smiled, biting his lip as he shook his head.

"Uh uh," he said. "Not here." In one smooth movement, he lifted his wife into the air. She wrapped her legs around him as he walked to the other side of the room, kissing her the entire time. He set her down on top of the dresser, facing him. He watched their reflection in the mirror as he entered her, her back arching involuntarily. Tara wrapped her legs around Jax again, throwing her head backward as Jax kissed and licked her breasts.

"I love you Tara," he growled hungrily. She answered by moving harder against him, her hands around his neck. Jax backed away from the dresser, carrying Tara with him. They fell backwards onto the bed, Tara on top of Jax. He grabbed onto her hips as she moved back and forth slowly, loving how good he felt inside her. Jax closed his eyes. Tara was so warm, so wet, so alive. She was a part of him- a part he couldn't live without. He had never been so sure. The more she writhed on top of him, the further away that image of her lying dead on the kitchen floor became.

"Oh God," she sighed, her back going rigid as she climaxed, her pleasure uncontainable. Before she could catch her breath, Jax flipped her onto her back. He thrust himself inside her, hard and fast, his eyes fixated on hers.

"Don't ever leave me Tara," he insisted.

"Never," she promised, pulling her husband's face to hers, kissing him as he exploded inside of her. When he was finished, he collapsed on top of her, sweaty and breathless. She gently ran her hands up and down the very defined plains of his back.

"I love you," Jax said again, kissing his wife sweetly on the forehead.

"I love you too," Tara answered. She knew they needed to get up and get dressed and get back to their guests, but she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with Jax for the rest of the day- touching, kissing, gazing into each others' eyes. It was perfect.

But as all good things must come to an end, Jax and Tara's perfect moment was shattered by what could have easily been mistaken for an earthquake . The walls shook and the ground rumbled as the familiar roar of a motorcycle gang rolling into town assaulted the peaceful silence of country living. Jax flashed Tara a wicked grin.

"They're here," he announced. Tara rolled her eyes. Indeed they were.


	8. Chapter 8

Jax threw his clothes back on and sneaked out of the bedroom after stealing one final kiss from Tara as she began the process of getting redressed and fixing her hair and makeup. Mid-day quickies were always much easier for Jax to recover from than they were for her. That was probably why they didn't happen very often anymore.

Abel met Jax in the hallway, every bit as excited about the arrival of the very loud party guests as his father was.

"I think they're here, Dad!" he exclaimed.

"I think you're right, buddy," Jax laughed. Trinity was standing at the end of the hall, holding Thomas. She looked apprehensive about the invasion of the motorcycle club. "You good?" Jax asked. She nodded. "Can you do me a favor and take the boys out back to play?"

"Sure," Trinity agreed. "Abel, come on," she said, reaching for her eldest nephew's hand.

"But Daddy, I wanna see the guuuuys," Abel protested.

"And you will. Daddy will bring them to the party in just a little bit. We just have to handle some grown up business first. Now you go be a good host and take Aunt Trinity outside to play, okay?" Abel nodded. He was such a good boy. Jax ruffled his son's sandy blonde hair and headed out the front door, just as Opie was rounding the side of the house. Side by side, they walked toward the gang of leather-clad bikers parking their motorcycles in Jax's front yard.

"Shit," Opie seethed as he lit a cigarette and took a quick, nervous puff. Jax followed his gaze.

"Shit," he agreed. Jax's step-father was helping a half-naked crow eater off his bike, a shit-eating grin on his face. With the blonde-haired tramp on his arm, he sauntered toward Jax and Opie, half a dozen of his crew and a random assortment of women behind him. Jax and Opie were vastly outnumbered, but they stood tall just the same. This was their turf, their family- they couldn't allow Clay to disrupt the peace they'd worked so hard to obtain.

"Theeeere they are," Clay crooned, his voice dripping with insincerity. "The golden boy and his lackey." Jax felt Opie tense beside him. He placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"We need to talk," Jax said, stepping into Clay's path. Clay didn't stop until he was inches from Jax's face. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses. Jax fought the urge to backhand the self-righteous smirk Clay was wearing from his weathered face.

"Is that so?" Clay asked. Jax kept his eyes fixed on his step-father's, but was very aware of the presence of his club behind him. Jax couldn't imagine that any of them would start anything at a kid's birthday party, but if things got physical between him and Clay, he knew whose side they would take. Jax was a traitor, after all.

"I just wanna make sure everybody's cool," Jax said. "This day is about Abel."

"Of course," Clay sneered, seemingly annoyed that such a thing even needed to be stated. "I sure as hell didn't come all this way to see your ugly mug."

"Gemma and Unser are here," Jax added, ignoring Clay's dig. For just a moment, there was a flicker of emotion in the old man's cold, dead eyes. He quickly willed it away, replacing it with a wicked grin.

"I had no doubt," Clay said, wrapping his arm tightly around the piece of trash by his side, as if to imply that he had no use for Gemma, that he'd traded up. Jax knew better.

"And you're cool with that?" Jax pressed. Clay laid a firm hand on Jax's shoulder. Normally such a gesture would be comforting, but Jax perceived it as a threat.

"Son. Everyone's cool," Clay promised. While Jax normally didn't trust a word out of the man's mouth, he believed him for some reason. It seemed as though Clay was content to rub in everyone's faces how much better he was doing without Jax and Gemma in his life, which Jax hoped meant that he would refrain from causing any real trouble. Satisfied, he shrugged Clay's hand from his shoulder and stepped aside.

"The boys are out back," he said. Clay brushed past him without as much as another glance. His whore smiled at Jax, then turned her attention to Opie.

"Hey, Opie," she said sweetly.

"Ima," he nodded, without meeting her gaze.

"Is Lyla here?"

"Yup," Opie answered, visibly uncomfortable. He loathed his wife's former porn co-star. She'd tried for years to fuck her way into the club by getting into Jax's pants. Aside from one lapse in judgment early in Jax's relationship with Tara, she'd been unsuccessful. So the moment the head old lady position opened up, Ima threw herself into it pussy first.

"Oooh, good," she baited him. "I've missed her." Opie chuckled, his fists balled. Clay pulled Ima away, toward the house.

"Chill, bro," Jax whispered. "Don't let that skank get to you just because she's had more sex with your wife than you have." Opie jabbed Jax sharply in the ribs, his tension easing. Jax laughed, rubbing his side.

Tig gave Jax and Opie a quick nod before following behind Clay, a ridiculously young crow eater on his arm. Out of everyone, Tig had taken their separation from the club the hardest, and hadn't quite forgiven either of them yet. Bobby, like Piney, never held their betrayal against them. He wrapped them both in tight embraces, reeking of marijuana and booze. So much had changed in the past few years. It was a breath of fresh air that Bobby was still exactly the same.

Chibs greeted his former brothers warmly, reintroducing them to his daughter. Kerianne was just as shy as she'd been in Belfast. Her hair was shorter and her face was thinner than Jax remembered, but she still seemed like a fish out of water among the club. Even so, she smiled when Jax told her where she could find Trinity.

Juice and Happy exchanged quick pleasantries with Jax and Opie, then followed the others toward the house. With the awkward hellos over, Opie let out a sigh of relief.

"Not too painful," he said. He lit another cigarette, then offered one to Jax. Jax was trying to quit, but he'd definitely earned himself a smoke. He took it, turning his back to the house in hopes that Tara wouldn't see him. He just needed one moment of peace before throwing himself into the madness that was Abel's birthday party.

Just as Jax was taking the final drag from his cigarette, another car pulled into the driveway. He recognized the baby blue Impala lowrider instantly.

"Aw hell," he grumbled, wishing, just for a moment, that his family was at least some degree of normal. His ex-wife jumped out of the passenger seat, her arms full of presents.

"Where's my baby?" Wendy demanded, without even a hello. Not bothering to wait for an answer, she rushed past Jax and Opie into the house, a whirlwind of curly hair and gaudy jewelry. Wendy would never be Jax's favorite person, but she was Abel's birth mother. She'd been sober nearly five years, so there was really no valid reason for Jax to keep her away. At least, that was what Tara always said.

Her boyfriend took his time getting out of the car. Jax studied him as he made his way toward the house. He was older than Wendy, and was the owner of the hair salon she'd worked at before they started dating. The tattoos on his neck and arms revealed that he'd once been affiliated with one of the Mexican gangs in Cali. You'd never know it, though. He was very kind and even-keeled, always smiling- the complete opposite of Wendy. Jax wasn't sure what he saw in her. But it wasn't for him to judge. He liked his ex-wife's new boyfriend, as did Abel, and that was good enough for him.

"Ay, 'mano," Nero Padilla called out, adjusting the rings on both of his hands as he walked.

"Nero," Jax and Opie responded in unison.

"You didn't tell me there was a dress code," he teased, motioning to the black-leathered mob in the back yard.

"Sorry, man," Jax laughed. "I must've missed that memo myself." Nero patted him on the back.

"We ready to party?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jax answered. "I guess we are."


	9. Chapter 9

"You miss it, bro?" Jax asked Opie as he shoveled a hamburger patty onto the plate Opie was holding. Abel's party was in full swing, with the two of them manning the grill. The guests were divided into two very distinct groups- the club in one corner of the yard, all leather, cigars, trashy women and hearty laughter; the others in the opposite corner, looking like a neighborhood watch meeting or a book club, talking quietly and eyeing the bikers with disapproving eyes. Only the children were oblivious to the invisible line drawn in the sand as they ran back and forth freely between friends and family members.

"Miss what? The danger, the excitement, the money? All the pussy you can handle?" Opie responded. "Who would miss that?" He and Jax both laughed.

"I'm serious, man," Jax said. "Do you ever regret leaving SAMCRO?" Opie watched the MC for a long time before answering. They were what he knew- his family, his friends, his life. This 9 to 5 existence he'd been living for the past few years made him feel like he was wearing a borrowed suit. It wasn't him. But then he looked at Clay, a God among men in the eyes of the other club members. That was not the kind of man he wanted to take orders from. If he was going to follow someone, he needed a leader he could believe in. And he'd lost his faith in Clay Morrow long ago.

When his gaze shifted to Tig, he got a knot in his stomach and a pain in his chest. All he saw when he looked at him was Donna lying dead in the middle of the road, her brain splattered all over the inside of his pickup truck. He'd made his peace with what happened as best he could, but he could never call the man who murdered his wife and left his children motherless his brother.

"No," Opie finally answered, his voice strong. "I don't miss it."

"Me either," Jax said, glancing over at his wife, who was sitting at a picnic table across from Nero and Wendy, no doubt updating them on Abel's latest exploits. She was so happy, so safe, so content. Any of the things he missed about the outlaw lifestyle paled in comparison.

"I got this," Opie said, taking the spatula out of Jax's hand. Jax looked at him, confused. "I said I got this," Opie repeated. "Go be with your wife." Jax relinquished his grilling duties and headed toward the table where the mothers of his two children were engaged in friendly conversation. He sat down on the picnic table bench next to his wife.

"What's goin' on over here?" he asked, grabbing a handful of Chex Mix from the bowl in the middle of the table.

"Nothing," Tara answered, offering her husband a smile as she took one of his pretzels and popped it in her mouth.

"Just talkin' about our boy," Wendy answered. Jax was instantly annoyed. Wendy was no kind of mother to his son, she never had been. She was more like the fun aunt who came to visit every couple of months with gifts and crazy stories and empty promises.

"Wendy and Nero were just telling me about how they're taking Nero's son to Disney World next month," Tara explained. "The Make-A-Wish Foundation set it up." Jax looked down at the table. He never knew quite how to respond when the topic of Nero's son came up. The product of a junkie mother, Nero's boy was born with severe birth defects. He wasn't expected to live into his twenties. Jax often wondered how Nero could date a woman who'd done drugs during her pregnancy and nearly killed her child, considering how a drug addict had destroyed his own son's chances of having a normal life.

"That's great," Jax said. "I bet he'll love that."

"Yeah, man," Nero answered. "He's stoked. But uh, we've got an extra ticket, you know, for Abel. We were hoping you and the wife here would let him join us."

"That's very kind of you, but…" Jax stopped when Tara placed her hand over his.

"I told them we'd discuss it," Tara offered, nodding to Jax. He nodded back.

"Sure," he said. "We'll let you know." Wendy glared at him, but he paid her no attention.

"I can't believe he brought that whore to a five year old's birthday party," hissed a voice from behind Jax.

"Hey, Mom," he sighed.

"I oughta go take that hot spatula out of Ope's hand and smack her in the face with it," Gemma threatened.

"You should," Tara laughed. "It would be an improvement for her." Jax had a suspicion that even though Tara was vehemently opposed to any sort of fighting at their son's birthday party, she might tolerate violence against Ima for at least a few minutes. The porn-star-turned-old-lady had more enemies than friends, and Tara was at the top of the list of people who would like to see her become roadkill.

"Where's Wayne?" Jax asked, not a fan of his mother roaming Abel's party unsupervised.

"Inside," Gemma answered, waving her hand nonchalantly toward the house. "He's tired."

"Well you should go be with him, then," Jax suggested. His mother shot him a dirty look.

"Sure," she agreed. "I'll go do that." She patted Jax on the shoulder, then trotted away, her stilettos sinking into the ground with every step.

"I'm going to go play with my son," Wendy announced, standing up from the table. It bothered Jax more than it did Tara when she staked her claim on Abel. But Tara knew she was the only one Abel thought of as his mommy, and that was good enough for her.

"Fantastic idea," Tara agreed, standing up as well. "I'll join you." The two women stared each other down for a brief moment, then headed toward the swing set, where the Teller boys, the Winston children, and the two Irish imports were engaged in a serious game of tag.

"Wow," Nero chuckled. "Intense." Jax nodded. "Was that your moms?"

"Yeah," Jax admitted reluctantly.

"She's smokin' hot, 'mano," Nero teased.

"Naw, man," Jax said, shaking his head. "You don't want none of that. Trust me." Nero held up his hands in defense.

"No disrespect, ese, just appreciating a beautiful woman when I see one. But don't get it twisted. I've got my hands full with that one right there."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Jax empathized. "How's she doing?"

"She's doing great, holmes, for real. I'm so proud of her. She's come a long way."

"That's good," Jax said.

"She loves that little boy, man. I don't want to step on any toes, but she really would like to spend more time with him. And you know I'll always be there to look out for him, keep him safe."

"Thank you," Jax said, his voice sincere. "I'm glad she has you. And I'll think about the Disney World thing."

"Yeah?" Nero asked.

"Yeah," Jax promised.

"Baby, come here," Wendy called from across the yard.

"That's my cue," Nero said, getting up from the table.

Alone, Jax took a moment to think about how far he'd come in the past five years. The day Abel was born, he and Wendy were in the midst of a divorce. She was an active junkie, and he was a thug poised to take over a criminal empire within a matter of years. Tara was the respectable doctor who worked around the clock to save Abel's life, but wouldn't give her high school sweetheart the time of day. If someone had told Jax then what was in store for the three of them- that someday he and Tara would be married and raising a family together, he would be out of SAMCRO, and Wendy would be off drugs and sitting at the table with them and her new boyfriend, everyone holding hands and singing kumbaya, he never would have believed it.

Jax studied his party guests as he sat there-Tara, Wendy and Nero playing with the kids; Lyla helping Opie at the grill; Clay straddling a picnic bench with his whore in his lap, fawning over his every word; Tig getting a very unsettling looking head massage from his teenage girlfriend; Bobby, Chibs and Happy likely talking shop as they passed around what Jax truly hoped was just a cigar. And Juice…Jax had to scan the yard for a few minutes to find his mohawked, tattooed, surrogate little brother. He finally spotted him under a giant oak tree, seated on the ground with Trinity and Kerianne.

Jax watched them as they talked, hoping he was reading the situation wrong, or that Kerianne was the intended target of Juice's charm. But as Juice's gaze fixed on Trinity, and hers on his, Jax's blood began to boil.

"Oh hell no," he grumbled.


	10. Chapter 10

"Can you believe this shit?!" Gemma seethed, standing at the picture window overlooking Jax and Tara's back yard. Unser glanced outside from his spot on the couch, noticing immediately a handful of scenarios that one might consider surreal- Wendy and Tara playing with their son together; Tig making out with a woman damn near young enough to be his granddaughter; a porn star flipping burgers at a kid's birthday party. But he knew exactly what "shit" Gemma was referring to. Her eyes were locked on her unofficial ex-husband and the younger model he'd traded her in for.

"Leave it alone, Gem," he pleaded.

"At a goddamn five year old's birthday party, Wayne!" Her arms were crossed and she was tapping her foot impatiently. Wayne let out an exasperated sigh, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him.

"Come sit down, sweetheart," he said. Gemma's larger than life personality was one of the many things Wayne loved about her, but sometimes it was just too much for him. He was too old and too sick to constantly combat the drama she thrived on. Gemma reluctantly left her spot at the window and joined Wayne on the couch. He wrapped a shaky arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Wayne felt a tremendous amount of guilt over not being able to give Gemma many of the things a man should be able to give his woman, but he could always give her his shoulder to lean on. He could always offer her comfort. Sometimes he wondered, if he was healthy and capable of a traditional relationship, would Gemma still be with him. He doubted it. While his illness would ultimately be the death of him, it had also given him the one thing he wanted most- the chance to live out his final days with the woman he'd always loved. Wayne knew Gemma didn't love him the way he loved her. But a dying man couldn't be too picky. She loved him in some capacity. That was enough for him.

Just as Gemma's breathing was slowing to a normal pace, the back door creaked open. Wayne felt her muscles tighten. Tig Trager appeared in the doorway. Wayne grimaced. Tig had always been his least favorite member of SAMCRO. He was ruthless and unpredictable.

"Oh hey, Unser. Gemma," Tig said nonchalantly.

"Trager," Wayne responded as Gemma gave him a slight wave. Wayne prayed that the next words out of Tig's mouth wouldn't come, but as always, they did.

"Hey, Gem, can I talk to you for a sec?" Tig asked, motioning down the hallway that contained the bedrooms, the bathroom, and the other family room. Wayne held his breath, hoping that, for once, Gemma would tell him no. But Wayne could tell by the mock-confused way Gemma looked at him, as if she had no idea what Tig might want to talk to her about, that she was going to betray him yet again. Wayne knew what people were saying about Gemma and Tig. But who was he to put a stop to it when Trager was giving Gemma something Wayne couldn't? Besides, no matter who or what she was doing on the side, Gemma always returned home to him at night. Wayne had convinced himself that was good enough. It had to be.

"Sure, Tiggy," she said, patting Wayne on the thigh as she stood up. "I'll be right back, sweetheart."

Wayne nodded, not saying a word as the love of his life disappeared down the hall with Tig Trager to do God knows what. Suddenly, he was overcome with the need to get some air. He pulled himself up from the couch and ventured outside, where he found Jax and his sister having a heated debate.

"I don't know what the big deal is Jackson, we were just talking," Trinity insisted, her pale cheeks flush with anger. She'd never been so embarrassed as when her brother had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the conversation she was having with one of his friends, as if she were a child or something.

"Didn't look like 'just talking' to me," Jax insisted. "I know Juice, and…"

"And I don't!" Trinity interrupted him. "I don't know anyone here at all except for Kerianne. What's so wrong about me wanting to make new friends, or even just have a conversation with someone?" Jax shook his head, not buying the innocent bit. "And even if I was interested in Juice, which I'm not- I'm a grown woman, Jackson."

"I know that," Jax said. "But you're still my little sister. And as your big brother, it's my job to protect you. So when I see you making googly eyes at a member of the MC, that's a problem."

"Well, it's my problem," Trinity insisted. "I'm not an innocent, big brother. Don't forget where I come from. I know from bad people, and Juice doesn't seem like bad people to me."

"Trinity, I just…."

"Jackson," she interrupted again, "I know I just got here and there's a lot we need to figure out about how this all works, but let's start with one simple rule of thumb- do not treat me like a child." Jax bit his lip to keep from smiling, noticing how very young and naïve his sister looked while declaring her maturity.

"You got it," he promised. "Just do me a favor and stay away from Juice. At least until we have a chance to sit down and talk some things out."

"You got it," she repeated. Jax gave Trinity a quick squeeze and kissed her on the forehead.

"So glad you're here," he said.

"We'll see about that," she giggled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go change. I don't think I'm dressed for this weather. I'm not used to all this sunshine. It's hot!"

"Sure thing," Jax said, turning back to the party.

Trinity hurried into the house, down the hall toward the spare bedroom she would call home for the foreseeable future. She bumped into Gemma coming out of the bathroom, her hair a mess and her clothes disheveled. She thought she caught a glimpse of one of the club members inside the bathroom before Gemma shut the door, but she couldn't be sure. Trinity gave her an awkward nod and continued to her room.

She closed and locked her door before beginning to unbutton the long sleeved green blouse that had proven to be a bad wardrobe choice.

"Need some help with that?" came a voice from across the room. Startled, Trinity looked up to see Juice standing near her closet, leaning against the wall.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" she breathed, quickly rebuttoning her shirt.

"Sorry, sorry," Juice offered, laughing as he slowly closed the gap between them.

"What are you doing in here?" Trinity demanded.

"I just…I know Jax probably won't let me get near you again today, so I wanted a minute to finish our conversation." _Jax_. If he found Juice in Trinity's room, he would kill him. Truce be damned.

"I can handle my brother," Trinity insisted, checking to make sure her door was indeed locked so that she wouldn't have to.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I understand that you have to stay away from me. And it's cool. You're Jax's sister and he'll never let you…" Overcome with rage at the assumption by yet another man that she was simply going to let Jackson Teller control her life, Trinity did something very out of character. She interrupted Juice by grabbing his face and kissing him, hard at first, fighting against Juice's surprise. Juice pulled away, a stunned look on his face.

"Nobody tells me what to do," Trinity whispered, her face just inches from Juice's. "I make my own decisions." He studied her for a minute with his piercing brown eyes, then tangled his hands in her firecracker red hair and kissed her again, this time slower. His lips were soft, and Trinity felt as if she could kiss him forever. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pressing her body against his. The bulge in his pants told her everything she needed to know about how he felt about this sudden turn of events.

Juice moved his hands from Trinity's hair to her neck, then down her torso, until he reached her tight little ass. He grabbed it with both hands, pulling her into him as his tongue worked slowly and sensually against hers. Trinity reached for Juice's belt buckle, trying to unfasten it with one hand. Juice pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Trinity asked, confused. "Don't you want to?" Juice smiled.

"Oh, I want to. Believe me, I want to. But we can't. Not like this."

"Why not?" Trinity backed away, trying not to let the sting from Juice's rejection show.

"Because I like you, Trinity. I mean, I think I could really like you. I want to get to know you before we…you know." Trinity wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, reaching a hand up to smooth out her hair. Juice used his thumb to brush a wayward lock out of her eyes.

"I mean it," he promised, kissing her softly on the lips. She smiled.

"Okay," she said again, a little more sure this time.

"Can I call you?" Juice asked.

"You better," Trinity teased.

Juice programmed Trinity's number into his phone, then kissed her once more on the forehead before unlocking her door, hoping his absence at the party had gone unnoticed.

"Juice?" Trinity asked.

"Yeah?" He stopped just outside her doorway.

"What's your real name?"

"Juan Carlos," he said. Trinity giggled. "I always just went by Juan before Juice stuck."

"Okay, then, Juan," Trinity said, sincere, "I'll talk to you soon."

"Looking forward to it." Juice winked at the fair-skinned beauty standing alone in her room, her shirt still half unbuttoned and her freckled cheeks pink with desire for him. He knew he had to leave while he still could. He turned away and started down the hall, back toward the party.

"Me too," she called after him, her thick Irish accent making him smile.

"What the fuck am I getting myself into?" he muttered to himself. He had no idea. But he couldn't wait to find out.


	11. Chapter 11

"Abel, you have to blow out the candles now," Jax whispered into his son's ear. It had been a good thirty seconds since the ragtag choir of bikers, porn stars, doctors, and mechanics had finished their rendition of "Happy Birthday," and Abel Teller was just staring at his double layer chocolate cake, watching as the five tiny flames on each of the candles flickered in the slight breeze while wax dripped all over Tara's homemade icing. He was sandwiched between his two mothers on a picnic table bench, their respective mates flanking their sides. The random assortment of party guests crowded the bench on the other side of the table. Everyone was watching him. Everyone except one person.

"Do you want Daddy to help you?" Tara prodded, gently rubbing her son's back. Wendy shifted in her seat, seemingly upset that she hadn't thought to comfort Abel first.

"No," Abel whispered. "I want Grandpa." Clay Morrow was perched in a lawn chair on the other side of the yard, away from the crowd, where he'd been the entire afternoon.

"You want….._Grandpa_?" Tara repeated, shooting Jax a nervous glance. Abel looked up from his cake at the faces around him. It was as if someone had sucked the oxygen out of the atmosphere. Jax bit his lip, his muscles tense.

"I'll go grab him, little man," Juice offered, jogging across the lawn to where Clay and his trollop were engaged in what appeared to be some rather raunchy pre-pillow talk. Jax watched, seething, as Juice leaned in toward Clay, whispering into his ear. A wicked, triumphant smile spread across the outlaw's face as he listened. He made eye contact with Jax as he rose from his chair and headed toward the other party guests. Like a stray poodle in need of a flea bath, Ima trotted closely behind him.

"I hear my presence has been requested by the birthday boy," Clay's voice boomed as he made his way to Abel. Instinctively, Opie moved to Jax's side. They both stared Clay down as he approached, but he paid them no mind. Abel smiled, nodding shyly.

Clay brushed past Jax and Opie, squeezing himself in behind Abel. Tara shot Ima a warning glance as she approached. If she got within arm's length of Jax, Tara would claw her eyes out herself. Ima stopped just short of the end of the table, fidgeting nervously with the cheap bracelet on her wrist. Clay lifted Abel from the picnic table bench.

"What's the matter?" he asked his grandson. "You can't blow these candles out by yourself?" All eyes were on Abel and Clay. Jax could barely stomach to watch their interaction. But if there was one good thing that could be said about Clay, oddly enough, it was that he was good with his grandkids. This man who had killed countless people, both rivals and innocents; who had put his family through hell and committed thousands of unspeakable acts "for the good of the club;" who most people, even those who knew him, feared.

But not Abel. To Abel, those hands that were permanently stained with blood were not the hands of a murderer, they were the hands of the tickle monster. Those lips, which had spewed threats and hatred and commanded acts of violence for decades, were the lips from which some of the best stories were told about dragons and castles and faraway lands. And that face, the face so many saw in their nightmares, was simply the face of Abel's goofy old grandpa. It was kind of beautiful, in a twisted sort of way. Or at least it would be, if Jax didn't hate the old man so much.

"I need your help to blow them out," Abel said quietly, almost too quietly for anyone other than Clay to hear.

"You do?" Clay asked. Abel nodded. Clay kissed the boy on his forehead, and leaned in toward the cake. "Okay, let's do this. On the count of three. Ready?" Abel nodded again. "One," Clay began.

"Two," the crowd joined in. "Three!" they all yelled as Abel and Clay blew out the candles which were now no more than a quarter of an inch high. Everyone cheered as Abel smiled and Thomas, who was content in Gemma's clutches, clapped.

"Good job, little man," Clay said, tousling Abel's hair.

"What did you wish for, baby?" Wendy asked.

"I wished for my birthday to be like this every year," Abel said, surveying the crowd, appearing to take stock of who, exactly, was there, so that he wouldn't forget. "I like it when my whole family is together." Those nine little words elicited the most heartbreaking smiles from the adults crowded around the picnic table- Abel's family. They were all so scattered, so disconnected. It had been years since they'd been "one big happy family." But to Abel, that's all he saw when he looked at them. And all he wanted was for them to stay that way. Tara let out a deep sigh, breaking the silence.

"Okay," she said, standing up and clapping her hands. "Let's all go play some tag while the guys get us cake and ice cream."

"I'll be 'it' first," Ima offered, smiling deviously.

"No you won't," Lyla insisted, grabbing her former business associate by the arm and dragging her away from the crowd. "Let's catch up for a little while," she offered as they headed toward the side of the house.

"Grandma's 'it'!" Abel announced. Gemma was not nearly as amused as Jax was by this.

"You heard the birthday boy, Mom," he teased. "Get to it." The women and children scattered as Gemma began traipsing after them in all her high-heeled, jewelry-clad glory.

"Ope, the ice cream's in the freezer, scoop should be in the drawer under the sink," Tara instructed. She handed Jax the knife she'd brought out to cut the cake. "Try to scrape some of that candle wax off if you can, please."

"No problem," Jax said. Tara smiled, then looked out toward the yard, trying to calculate her "tag" strategy. Jax grabbed her hand before she took off.

"Can I help you, Mr. Teller?" she mused.

"Weelllll," he began, laughing as she playfully punched him in the stomach at the implied suggestion. "Naw, you just forgot something," he finished.

"What's that?" she asked. Jax tapped a finger to his pursed lips. Tara stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him quickly, but he pulled her in close, holding her for a long moment.

"I love you," he said, his lips brushing softly against hers as he said the words he'd said to her a million times before, and hoped to tell her a million times more.

"I love you too," Tara whispered back. "Now cut up that cake." She pulled out of Jax's arms and took off running as Gemma clumsily approached in her stiletto heels.

"Tara!" Gemma yelled, doing her best to run after her daughter-in-law. "Goddamn it, get back here!" Tara laughed heartily as she escaped further into the yard, Gemma grumbling and stumbling behind her. Jax cracked a smile, then turned his attention toward the cake.

"So this is the life, huh?" Clay asked. Once the picnic table was empty, he'd taken the liberty of seating himself backwards on the picnic table just to the right of Jax, facing the yard.

"What do you mean by that?" Jax asked defensively. Clay glanced around to see who was within earshot. The wives and kids were all running around the yard, squealing and laughing in the afternoon sun. Bobby and Chibs were setting out plates as Happy and Juice unwrapped packages of forks and napkins. Opie had just returned with a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a scooper, and was setting up shop to Jax's left. Of all the jobs his club had done over the years, birthday party planning for a five year old wasn't something Clay ever thought he'd watch the members of SAMCRO do together. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"Jesus Christ," he grumbled. "This shit, right here. This Ward and June Cleaver shit. After everything your mother and I did for you, everything your father did for you when he was alive. John Teller and I built this club for you. It was your legacy. And you shit all over it for what? To play house with the doctor who gave you your first stiffy when you were a kid?"

"We're not doing this today, Clay," Opie warned, coming to Jax's defense.

"Doing what?" Clay challenged. "We're just talkin'. And you, you fuckin' disgrace. You turned your back on SAMCRO for your pussy ass best friend and some porn star bitch? Sure, you're the goddamn Brady Bunch until junior over there gets his hands on his first porno flick and sees his step-mommy takin' one in the ass. What's that gonna look like, huh?" Opie lunged for Clay, but Jax got between them. Clay jumped up from his relaxed position at the picnic table, but Bobby was on him instantly, holding him back.

"Enough!" Chibs yelled, loud enough that everyone heard him. The yard went silent as everyone watched in horror the scene unfolding in front of them. Thomas looked at his father, terrified, then started crying. Only then did Jax realized that he was still holding the knife he'd been using to cut the cake, and had it pointed at Clay. Tara stared at Jax, her eyes wide, torn between rushing to her husband's aid and comforting her children. The way Thomas buried his face into her shirt as he sobbed left her no choice.

"Shit," Jax groaned, dropping the knife on the table. "I'm sorry," he said, turning to Tara and the boys. Abel was standing beside his mother, watching his father intently. "Abel, I'm sorry," Jax repeated. Abel dropped the toy he was holding- a remote control motorcycle Happy had gotten him- on the ground, and took off running toward the house. Jax started after him, but Wendy stopped him.

"I'll go," she insisted, hurrying after Abel. Nero gave Jax a half smile, then followed Wendy and Abel into the house.

"Now look what ya did," Clay sneered. Jax turned his attention back to his step-father, his teeth clenched.

"You know why you don't get me, old man? Because we're different. I don't need to run an empire to feel like a man. All I need is my family."

"Pssshhhttt…family," Clay guffawed.

"Yeah, that's right," Jax responded. "Family. Something you know nothin' about. Something you'll never have. All you got is a tainted throne that can be ripped out from under you at any moment and a worn out pussy that's been used and abused all up and down the California coast line." Clay let out a snarl as he took a step toward Jax. This time it was Tara that came between them.

"You need to leave," she told Clay. "Now." Clay looked at Tara, then back at Jax. He chuckled as Ima appeared at his side. She tried to stare Tara down, but there was something in Jax's wife's eyes that frightened her, although she'd never admit it.

"Sure thing, doc," Clay finally conceded. He grabbed Ima around the waist and turned away, not saying another word. As he reached the edge of the yard, he threw an old, wrinkled hand into the air and snapped his fingers. The other members of SAMCRO knew what that meant. They said their hasty goodbyes, then followed Clay's lead.

Juice searched the dwindling crowd for the red-haired Teller family import before he left. They only made eye contact for a brief moment, Juice nodding subtly in her direction, but Jax saw the look in his little sister's eyes, and the way she smiled and squeezed Kerianne's hand once Juice wasn't looking. He would definitely have to keep an eye on that.

"I'm gonna go check on Abel real quick, and then we're gonna head out, too," Gemma said as she handed Thomas over to Jax. The toddler had stopped crying, but his cheeks were still wet with tears. Jax kissed him on the forehead, breathing in his sweaty, sticky, wonderful little boy scent. "This excitement's too much for Wayne," Gemma continued. "He's gettin' tired."

"I understand," Jax said. Gemma kissed him and Thomas both on the cheek, gave Tara a quick, obligatory hug, and then made her way into the house.

"Some party," Unser muttered, giving a quick nod to the Tellers before following behind Gemma. Trinity and Kerianne were whispering excitedly as the hugged goodbye. Lyla and the Winston kids drifted quietly into the house, while Opie worked on cleaning off the grill.

"Guess this party's over," Tara said.

"Babe, I'm so sorry," Jax lamented. "I never should have let him get to me like that." Tara pressed the tips of her fingers to her husband's lips, shaking her head.

"It's not your fault," she assured him. "It's Clay. He's poison. He always has been and he always will be. It was a mistake letting him come here." She smiled, kissing Jax on the chin. "I'll take Thomas inside to go check on Abel," she continued. "You and Ope are on clean-up duty."

"What?!" Jax protested, handing Thomas over. "I thought you said it wasn't my fault. Why am I being punished?" Tara smiled at her husband as she reached the back door.

"Don't think of it as punishment," she explained. "Think of it as a good deed you'll be rewarded for later." She winked playfully and then disappeared into the house. Jax chuckled, then went about the task of untying balloons from tree branches and pulling down streamers. God, he loved that woman.


	12. Chapter 12

Jax let out a deep sigh as he unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall to the floor. Every muscle in his body was tense from stress, and he was hoping a hot shower would help. He pulled off his t-shirt and studied his face in the mirror for a long moment before he climbed into the shower. He looked as tired as he felt. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, and it showed.

The hot water scalded his skin, but it felt good. He pressed his hands against the slippery shower wall and allowed the water to cascade across the contours of his back, down his legs, to his feet. He closed his eyes and took slow, deliberate breaths, trying to envision his tension melting away. He rolled his shoulders, then his neck, letting the water trickle from his head to his face, then down his chest and stomach. It seemed like the harder he tried to relax, the more tense he became.

He knew what it would take to calm him down, to make things right. But that was a long way off. He was counting the days until his family was whole again. Maybe then, only then, would he be able to breathe. He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the bathroom door open and shut. Tara's voice on the other side of the shower door startled him.

"They're gone," she announced, an untold emotion in her voice. Jax couldn't tell whether she was distraught or relieved. "Gemma said they'll call as soon as they get home. The drive should be fine, though. Thomas was nodding off before they even pulled out of the driveway." Jax opened the shower door, just a crack, so that he was face to face with his wife. The steam that escaped into the open air obscured his vision, so he still couldn't read her face.

"Did we do the right thing?" he asked. He had such a pain in his chest, there was no way they'd made the right decision for their family. It felt too wrong.

"Jackson Teller," Tara scolded, amused. "Is that fear I hear in your voice?"

"No," Jax insisted, closing the shower door. He knew if Tara saw his face, he'd be busted. He buried his head back under the stream of running water. "No ma'am," he repeated.

"Mmmhmm," Tara teased, her voice much closer. Jax opened his eyes again, surprised to see his very naked wife standing just inches from him, in the shower. She pulled her husband close, his wet, steamy flesh on her dry, warm skin. "Abel's on his way to Disney World," she said reassuringly. "He's so excited, he may never want to come back. And Thomas will be fine with Wayne and your mom this week. Clay and the guys are in Indian Hills until next Sunday, they won't be anywhere near Charming." Jax let out a long, exasperated sigh. If Tara was at peace with their choice, why couldn't he be? They'd lamented over letting Abel travel to Florida with Wendy and Nero for weeks, finally deciding it would be a good experience for him. Once they agreed to give away one kid, albeit temporarily, Gemma saw her opportunity and convinced them to give away the other, insisting that the two of them needed time alone, and that she should take Thomas during the week Abel was gone.

"I know," Jax said, trying not to allow Tara to distract him by the way she was kissing his jawline and stroking his torso with her fingertips, her hands getting closer and closer to his waistline with each pass. "It's just...Abel hasn't been this far away from me since Ireland." Jax's voice caught on the word. It had been over four years since Abel's kidnapping, and the pain was as fresh as if it had just happened. "And Thomas has never..."

"Has never been away from us for more than a few hours," Tara finished for him. "I know. Which is exactly why this is a good thing, Jax. Abel needs to bond with Wendy. And with Nero if he's going to be sticking around. Thomas loves Gemma and Wayne. And I'm pretty damn excited to get some alone time with my husband, to be perfectly honest with you." Tara grabbed onto her husband's girth to show him exactly how excited she was. Jax was instantly aroused. He traced his wife's nipples with his thumbs, biting his lip as he pressed harder against her.

"You're really good with this?" he asked. She nodded, water trickling over her shoulders and down her breasts, her hair twisting and curling as it dampened.

"I'm so good with it," she breathed as her husband entered her, lifting her up off her feet. He carefully leaned forward until Tara's back was against the shower wall. Tara wrapped her legs around her husband's waist, his hands pressed against the tile on either side of her head, holding up their weight. She ran her hands up and down his bulging biceps, which were wet and glistening. Her hair stuck to her face in strands as water pelted her and Jax while they made love. She pulled her husband's face to hers, yearning to taste his tongue, to feel his lips against her own. She twisted her fingers in Jax's hair, biting his lower lip as she came. When she realized she didn't have to be quiet, that there was nobody home to hear her, she allowed her moans to turn into full-fledged screams. Jax was unable to control himself at the sound of Tara's pleasure, letting out a primal growl as he came inside her. His arms trembling, he continued to hold them in place until Tara regained her breath.

"Oh God," she groaned as Jax set her back down, kissing her once more. He reached a hand up to her face, gently brushing strands of hair from her cheeks. She smiled. She was so sexy when she smiled. She turned her back to Jax to allow the shower water to warm her skin, which was cold to the touch from being pressed against the tile.

"Yeah," Jax said, his voice thick with passion. "I think I'm good with it, too." He slapped his wife playfully on the ass, then bent her over at the waist. He slid himself inside her once more as she moved against him, writhing in pleasure. Alone time was definitely something he could get used to.


	13. Chapter 13

Tara awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside her bedroom window. She opened her eyes, taken aback by how bright the light filtering in through the curtains was. Most mornings, Tara was up before the sun. Most mornings, it was the sound of Thomas' voice crackling through the baby monitor that roused her from whatever unmemorable dream she was having. But this was not most mornings. This was the first morning of a very strange week in the Teller household- a week with no children.

Tara stretched her arms wide, noticing for the first time that she was alone in bed. She was sore, but it was a good kind of sore. She and Jax had spent the entire night making love. She couldn't remember the last time they'd done that. They'd both passed out sometime after midnight, not even bothering to have supper. She was famished. As she became more alert, she noticed a few other strange things besides the empty spot in bed. Like the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, and the sound of plates and silverware clanging clumsily together. And, she was pretty sure, the sound of her husband having a very hushed conversation with someone.

"Jax?" she called out, her voice seeming to echo in the nearly empty house.

"I'll be right there," Jax hollered back. "Just...just stay right there, and I'll be there in a minute." Tara frowned. What was that man up to? She looked at the clock. 9:27 am. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in that late. She resisted the urge to pick up the phone and call Gemma and Wendy to check on the boys.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Jax repeated, his voice sounding closer each time. Tara smiled when her husband appeared in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

"What in the world is that?" Tara asked, sitting up in bed, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around her, as she was still completely naked. Jax made his way to her, setting the tray down over her legs.

"Breakfast," he answered. "Whole wheat toast with strawberry jam, eggs over-easy, and a side of fresh fruit. Oh, and coffee, of course." He smiled, proud of himself, as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"And flowers," Tara added, admiring the assortment of wildflowers and weeds that appeared to have been plucked from the yard and arranged carefully in the vase she kept on the kitchen windowsill, a vase that was usually empty.

"Yes," Jax agreed, his smile broadening. "And flowers." Tara's eyes narrowed, her skepticism piqued.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"I'm wooing you," Jax said.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" She'd heard him perfectly the first time, but she had to hear Jackson Teller say the word "woo" just once more.

"I'm wooing you," he repeated. He chuckled, looking down at the bed sheepishly for a moment before meeting Tara's perplexed gaze. "I just figured, it's been so long since we've had time alone together, and it'll probably be quite a while before it happens again. We need to make the best of it, you know? Romance and all that shit."

"And all that shit," Tara laughed. "Of course." She picked up a slice of toast and nibbled on the corner, watching her husband carefully. "Were you talking to someone a minute ago?" she asked.

"Ahh, yes. Trinity." Jax answered. His little sister was on the tail end of a weekend in Las Vegas with Kerianne and Chibs. Jax had been vehemently opposed to her going, but seeing as how she was over the age of 18 and Jax was not her father, he had no say in the matter.

"And how's she doing?" Tara asked cautiously.

"Alright, I guess. Said she won a couple hundred bucks. They were in the car, headed to the airport, when I talked to her. If her flight's on time, she should be back sometime around seven or eight tonight." Tara smiled, taking another bite of her toast. "What?" Jax prodded.

"Nothin'," Tara said. Jax was so protective of his little sister, it was ridiculous. He was always worried about where she was and who she was with. He was convinced she was having some tawdry affair with Juice Ortiz, which was preposterous. Juice and Trinity were nothing alike. Jax was just so hell bent on keeping her away from the life he'd worked so hard to break free from, it was making him paranoid.

"Mmmhmm," Jax grumbled. "So what do you wanna do today, Mrs. Teller? The world is our oyster."

"Our _oyster_?" Tara laughed.

"Sure." The child-like delight in Jax's grin melted Tara's heart. He always took so much on- worrying about the kids, Trinity, money , the shop, his past coming back to haunt him. It was rare to see him so carefree. "We've got the whole day to do whatever we want. So what shall it be?"

Tara took a sip of her coffee while she contemplated her husband's proposal. He picked at her fruit while he waited for an answer, eating all of the blueberries. Tara wasn't a big blueberry fan, so he was sure she wouldn't mind. After a couple minutes, a devilish grin spread across her face.

"Uh oh," Jax muttered. "What?"

"Ohhh, nothing too crazy," Tara said nonchalantly. "I just want you to teach me how to ride your bike." Jax laughed, hoping his wife was kidding. The look on her face told him that she definitely wasn't.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed. "Are you serious? Don't you remember what happened last time?"

"Last time? Jax, I was 16! I didn't even know how to drive a car, and I was just trying to impress you!"

"You- what? _You_ were trying to impress _me_?"

"Of course," Tara answered, as if that should have been obvious. "You were the bad boy biker with the dangerous outlaw family. Everyone in the entire school was either afraid of you or in love with you. Or both. I couldn't believe you even knew my name."

"Oh, whatever," Jax said, dismissing his wife's praise. "I was just the greasy kid from the wrong side of the tracks with the crazy mom and the dead dad. I was damaged goods. You were like this saint or some shit, with your perfect grades and your shiny hair and those gorgeous eyes." Tara's cheeks blushed bright pink. She'd never been one to take compliments well.

"We were both damaged goods, Jax," she reminded him. It was true. They both came from complicated homes and had both suffered the loss of a parent at an early age. But on the surface, the young Jackson Teller and Tara Knowles couldn't have been more different. She was a quiet, good girl who got straight As and wanted to be a doctor. He was a juvenile delinquent who sat in the student parking lot smoking cigarettes and revving his motorcycle during class. He didn't just run with a rough crowd, he was their leader. But there was something about him...

Sixteen year old Tara Knowles always found herself watching Jackson Teller whenever their paths crossed. Underneath the big, bad, biker boy persona, she saw something else. He was kind. He treated everyone with respect. (Aside from his teachers, of course.) Despite the fact that he was failing 11th grade, he was smart. Too smart, maybe. When he looked at Tara, she felt as if he could see right into her soul.

She would never forget the first time he spoke to her. She was standing at her locker, studying for a chemistry exam that was just minutes away, when the boy she'd admired from afar for so long approached her.

"Hey, Tara," he'd said, as if they were old friends. She looked up from her book, wide-eyed and speechless.

"H…hi, Jackson," she finally managed to choke out. She hoped he couldn't hear her heart beating a mile a minute. She could feel it all the way down to her toes. He smiled at her- the most beautiful, breathtaking smile she'd ever seen.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked, with a simple nod of his head toward the door. Tara was stunned.

"Do I- wh-what?" She didn't understand. Jax had spoken exactly eight words to her in her entire life, and he wanted her to leave the school with him?

"I've got a test next hour that I didn't study for, so I'm gonna cut out for the afternoon. I was just on my way out when I saw you standing here, all alone, studying frantically, looking all worried. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress. So…do you want to come with me?"

Tara opened her mouth to tell Jax no, that she was completely prepared for her test, that she would easily get at least a 95% on it, that she wasn't the type of girl who cut class, and that she certainly didn't run off with boys she didn't even know.

"Okay," she said instead. "Sure." Jax smiled, his excitement genuine.

"Fantastic," he said, taking Tara's chemistry book out of her hands and closing it. He placed it on the top shelf in her locker and shut the door, his arm brushing against hers. Tara felt a surge of electricity pulse through her when they touched. It took her breath away. "Ready, darlin'?" he asked, offering her his arm. Tara nodded, linking her arm through his silently. Together, with all eyes on them, most in total disbelief, Tara Knowles and Jackson Teller left Charming High School in the middle of a school day. Little did they know that neither of their lives would ever be the same.

"You wanna ride my bike? Seriously?" Jax asked again, hoping his wife would change her mind.

"Yes," Tara insisted. "I think it'll be fun." Jax smiled. It would be something.

"Alright. Let's do it," he conceded. He stood up from the bed, kissing Tara on the forehead. "You finish eating your breakfast and get ready while I run up to the shop. I just need to make sure Ope's all set for the day, so I don't have to worry about him calling me a million times."

"Okay," Tara agreed. "I'll be ready when you get back. Maybe I'll even see if I can dig your leather chaps out of storage." Jax laughed.

"I don't have any damn leather chaps, wife. You know that."

"Really?" Tara asked, disappointed. "We should probably get you some, then." Jax smiled, leaning down to give his wife a kiss. She kissed him back, fighting the urge to pull him into bed with her. If they started down that road again, they'd never stop, and she really did want him to teach her to ride his bike.

"I love you, Mrs. Teller," Jax said as he stood up and made his way toward the door.

"Love you too," Tara called after him. As she watched him disappear down the hall, she wasn't sure she'd ever loved him more- her husband, the father of her children, the boy who'd stolen her heart all those years ago. He was her everything. And she would always be his true north.


	14. Chapter 14

Tara watched in amusement as her husband inspected his bike for the zillionth time. She was seated on a blanket under an old sycamore tree along a desolate country road, the spot she'd chosen after about forty five minutes of riding on the back of Jax's motorcycle. The view was gorgeous and the road was all but deserted- perfect for an afternoon picnic and motorcycle lesson. Jax had been "making sure everything was in proper order" for the past fifteen minutes. Tara had a feeling he was stalling.

"Are we gonna get to this today, you think?" Tara asked. Jax sighed.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "She's as ready as she's gonna get. Question is- are you?"

"Baby, I was born ready," Tara teased, hopping up from the blanket and brushing herself off. When she reached the bike, she grabbed onto the handle bars and started to throw one leg over.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jax cautioned. "Easy." Tara glared at him.

"I'm not an idiot, Jax. I know what I'm doing. I've ridden on the back of your bike enough times, this should be like second nature to me."

"No," Jax said. "This is completely different. I need you to take this seriously." Tara waved him off, then straddled the bike. "Tara, I mean it. This isn't a joke," Jax cautioned. Tara could see in his eyes how serious he was. Jax had been riding since he was a child, so it was as easy as breathing for him. But he never forgot the dangers.

"Shit," Tara whimpered, trying to regain her breath. She could hear Jax racing toward her on the dirt road as he screamed her name, panic in his voice. She wasn't sure how long she had to compose herself before he reached her. The pain was excruciating. Her hand throbbed as blood oozed from it, mixing with the dirt she was covered in from head to toe. Her ankle was on fire, and she was certain she wouldn't be able to put any weight on it. She just prayed it wasn't broken. She was too afraid to open her eyes and survey the damage to her body and Jax's bike, but she was sure, at the rate she seemed to be losing blood, that she would need stitches.

She didn't even want to know how busted up the bike was. Jax loved that bike and took so much pride in it. She felt awful. She'd done the exact thing he told her not to do. She panicked. She'd been doing so good, too. Her take-off was smooth, she wasn't wobbly, she was pacing herself perfectly. She had the wind in her face, the sun at her back, and was in the middle of planning her victory speech for the end of her successful ride when it happened. She let her mind wander, back to the only other time she'd been at the helm of a two-wheeled death machine. And she lost it.

It was on their very first date, if you could call two sixteen year olds skipping school together a date. They'd ridden to a park just outside of town that had an unused access road alongside it. In an attempt to disguise the awkward silence and avoid the uncomfortable way Jax's penetrating gaze made her feel, Tara pretended to be very interested in his motorcycle.

"You know much about bikes?" he asked, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag.

"Yeah," Tara answered, too quickly. She was embarrassed by how high-strung and nervous she sounded. "Sure. Tons." Jax smiled.

"I'll bet," he said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle.

"I do," Tara insisted. "My cousin has a motorcycle, and I used to ride his all the time."

"Really?" Jax asked, his voice oozing with skepticism.

"I can show you," Tara challenged. "If you don't believe me."

"Oh, I believe you," Jax said, taking a step toward her. She let out a relieved sigh, although his invasion of her personal space made her nervous in a different way. "But I'd love for you to show me," he added. _Shit_, Tara thought. She'd been counting on Jax's chivalry to protect her farce. She didn't know how to ride a bike. At all. But she didn't think Jackson Teller would accuse her of lying, either.

"Okay," she squeaked, her throat closing up. Jax helped her with her helmet, and steadied the bike as she positioned herself on the seat.

"You're sure about this?" he asked. Tara nodded. How hard could it be? She was a smart girl. She could pull it off and look hot doing it. And that was exactly what she needed to be to keep the attention of a boy like Jax- hot and dangerous and exciting. She smiled, hoping she looked more confident than terrified. She pulled back on the throttle, let out the clutch, and was officially a bad ass biker chick for about five seconds before she bit the dust. Hard.

Pieces of metal went flying as Jax's motorcycle skidded across the pavement. Tara hit her head on the ground, her neck snapping back up so hard, she bit her tongue. She tasted blood instantly. Jax was at her side before she fully realized what had happened. His normally cool exterior was non-existent as he inspected her for damage. If she hadn't been in so much pain, not to mention completely humiliated, she would have reveled in the way he looked her up and down. She took solace in the fact that he didn't seem to care one bit about his bike. She was his only concern.

"Shit, Tara, are you alright?" he asked, holding her face in his hands as she sat on the ground, covered in scrapes, bruises, and dirt.

"I- I think so," she said, her head aching more with each word she spoke.

"Can you walk?" Jax asked.

"Yeah," Tara answered, not entirely sure if she could. She took Jax's hand when he offered it, and allowed him to help her up. He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. "Why?" she asked.

"Because," the most handsome boy at Charming High School explained, motioning to his battered motorcycle, "we're walkin'."

"Babe," Jax whispered, squeezing Tara's unbandaged hand. She opened her eyes, groggy from the pain meds. Her husband was seated on the edge of her hospital bed, watching over her worriedly. The doctor, a woman about Tara's age with ponytailed blonde hair and hot pink scrubs, looked equally concerned.

"Hey, Tina," Tara managed. Her best friend and colleague smiled.

"I thought today was your day off," Dr. Tina Whitaker teased. "If you missed me that much, you could have just called." Tara smiled back, instantly regretting it as pain shot from her temples to the base of her skull.

"What's the verdict?" Tara had already received six stitches in her hand, and was stuck in a brace for her severely sprained ankle for a minimum of six weeks. She was quite sure it was all just bumps and bruises beyond that, but because the doctors treating her were so personally invested in her wellbeing, the hospital had ordered a full round of routine testing. "Am I gonna live?"

Tina smiled again, setting Tara's chart down on the bedside table. A quick "yes, you're fine" would have sufficed, but Dr. Tina appeared to have more to say than that. Tara felt Jax tense up beside her. She patted his hand comfortingly. If there was one thing she'd learned being a doctor, it was that husbands are usually a lot more fragile than their wives.

"Tina…" she pressed.

"You're fine," her friend said suddenly, apologetic that she hadn't started with that. "It's just, uhh…"

"Spill it, doc," Jax insisted, his voice full of concern.

"Well," Tina continued. "You're pregnant?" It was more of a question than an answer. Tara drew in a sharp breath.

"I'm what?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Pregnant," Tina repeated. "You, my friend, are going to have a baby." Tara's mouth fell open. She was in shock. That couldn't be right.

"We're going to have a baby," Jax muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His face was sheet white, but the corners of his mouth were turned up just enough that Tara could tell he'd be grinning from ear to ear soon.

"Oh God," she said. And then reality hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd just been in a fairly serious motorcycle accident. What if…? "Oh, God," she said again, shielding her stomach protectively with her good hand. Tina shook her head, standing up quickly.

"I'm sure the baby is just fine," she assured her friend. "But we do need to do an ultrasound." Tara nodded. Jax squeezed her shoulder. She was too numb for his ill-advised display of affection to hurt like it should have. Tina hiked up Tara's standard-issue hospital gown and squirted a glob of cold blue gel onto Tara's abdomen. Tara shivered involuntarily. Tina placed the ultrasound paddle on Tara's stomach and began gently rolling it around as she, Tara and Jax stared intently at the black and white image on the screen in front of them.

Tara heard the life inside her before she saw it. The beautiful sound of an unborn baby's heartbeat was unmistakable, and always brought tears to her eyes. This time the tears rolled freely down her cheeks, though, as the heartbeat she was listening to belonged to her own child. She couldn't believe it.

"Hooolyyy shiiit," Jax marveled, an amused grin on his face. Tara studied with a doctor's eyes as her friend took measurements and examined the fetus. Everything looked perfect, as far as Tara could tell through her tears.

"Looks good," Tina confirmed. "I'd say you're about twelve weeks. The baby's strong."

"Hell yeah she is," Jax said.

"Oh no, it's too soon to tell if…" Tina began.

"It's a girl," Jax interrupted. "I know it is. And she's going to be strong and beautiful, just like her mother."

Tina winked at her friend, then left the room to give the expectant parents a moment of privacy.

"We're having a baby," Tara giggled, wiping her tears on her hospital gown.

"Yeah we are," Jax laughed, kissing his wife tenderly. "I love you so much babe." His cell phone buzzed in his pocket as he placed a careful hand on Tara's stomach. He pulled it out to look at the caller ID. "It's Ope," he said. "This is the seventh time he's called in the past hour." His brow furrowed with concern.

"Well answer it," Tara instructed him. "Just don't tell him yet!" He squeezed her hand and turned his back to her, making his way toward the door.

"Yeah?" Jax said quietly into the phone, making it clear that he was busy.

"Where the hell have you been?" Opie demanded, his voice strained.

"Long story, bro," Jax explained. "What's up?"

"You need to get back to the shop," Opie insisted. Jax shook his head.

"Sorry man, I can't. Kind of in the middle of it right now," he said.

"Jax. You need to get back to the shop. Now," Opie repeated.

"Why?" Jax asked.

"One word. Stahl."


	15. Chapter 15

"Goddamn _bitch_!" Jax yelled as he pounded on the steering wheel of the unfamiliar silver Prius he was driving. He pulled into the parking lot of Jackson-Winston Auto Repair and parked beside the sleek black Cadillac that he recognized all too well.

Agent June Stahl had been up his ass for more years than he could remember. When he was with SAMCRO, she'd been hell bent on putting him, and the rest of the club, behind bars for good. Since his separation from the MC, she'd been trying to get him and Opie to turn rat against their former brothers. She came poking around every couple of months or so, asking questions, ruffling feathers. But this was not the day for that, and Jax would make sure she knew it.

Instead of tending to his injured wife and celebrating the news that they were expecting their third child, he'd been forced to leave her in the care of her friend, whose car he'd borrowed since his bike was still in pieces on the side of a country road. He'd ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with Tara, with the intention of calling the shop for a tow once he knew Tara was okay. But between finding out about the baby and Stahl's unexpected visit, it completely slipped his mind.

The look on Tara's face when he told her he had to leave broke Jax's heart. It was too reminiscent of their old life- him leaving to handle untold business right when she needed him the most.

"I gotta go," he said after hanging up the phone with Opie. Tara looked as if she'd been slapped in the face.

"Go? What are you talking about? You can't go." Jax kissed his wife on the forehead gently, resting a hand on her stomach.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll go find Tina, have her come sit with you 'til I get back. I'm gonna need to borrow her car anyway." Tara nodded in defeat, blinking back tears.

"Fine," she whispered. "Just go."

"I love you," Jax said, kissing her again. Tara rolled her eyes. Jax tried not to smile. He loved her feisty side.

Jax took a deep breath as he climbed out of Tina's car, trying to calm his nerves so he didn't bite Stahl's head off instantly. He passed the shop's tow truck driver on his way into the building.

"Hey, Simon," he called after the lanky kid who'd started working for him just out of high school a couple years back. "Wrecked my bike out on M43 near the interstate. Take the flatbed and go pick it up, will ya?"

"Sure boss!" Simon answered.

"Thanks," Jax smiled. He was a little rough around the edges, but Simon was a good kid. Would've made a good prospect.

"Jackson Teller," Agent Stahl announced as Jax entered the humble front office of the automotive repair shop he owned with his best friend. She stood up to greet him, but Jax walked right past her, to Opie, who was standing behind the front desk.

"Sorry, brother," Opie said. "I shoulda killed that bitch when I had the chance." Twice, Opie found himself with a gun to Agent Stahl's head, poised to kill her as revenge for the death of his first wife, for which she was responsible. But for reasons Jax would never understand, Opie chose mercy over vengeance both times.

"What the hell does she want?" Jax whispered. Opie shook his head.

"Insisted on waiting for you to get here," he explained.

"What do you want?" Jax snarled, turning toward the long-haired woman dressed in a black pantsuit. Stahl was just as ugly as Jax remembered. He'd always wondered whether she was simply a victim of bad plastic surgery, or if she'd had some massive facial injury that even good plastic surgery couldn't fix.

"Just to talk," Stahl said, her voice light, as if they were old friends. "Catch up." She sat back down, crossing her legs, making herself at home. Jax took a deep breath, leaning back against the counter. "How's the family?" she asked.

"Not your concern," Jax responded. "Now why are you here?" Stahl took a quick, deep breath before she spoke. This seemed to be a habit of hers- one that made her all the more annoying.

"Talked to dear old dad lately?" she asked.

"My father is dead," Jax reminded her.

"Clay Morrow," she clarified. "I hear he and his buddies made a trip to Oregon a few weeks ago. Know anything about that?"

"We had some family over for my son's birthday party," Jax explained. "What of it?"

"I also hear that you and your step-father got into an altercation." Jax let out a chuckle. Compared to some of the knock-down drag-outs he and Clay had gotten into over the years, what happened at Abel's party didn't even register as a blip on the radar.

"I don't know who you heard that from, but they're full of shit," Jax said. "Why do you care?" Agent Stahl's eyes sparkled with excitement. She got off on the cat-and-mouse bullshit more than anyone Jax had ever met.

"A hiker found Clay Morrow's body in a county park just north of Tahoe this morning," she revealed, feigning empathy, barely able to mask a smile. The blood rushed from Jax's face, and he was thankful to have the support of the counter behind him, as his legs went numb.

"That's bullshit," Opie growled.

"Oh, I assure you, old friend," Stahl taunted, "that it most definitely is not bullshit. One shot to the back of the head. All she wrote."

"Jesus Christ," Jax breathed, feeling sick to his stomach. His head was spinning. Then he realized something. "You're lying. If this was for real, my mom would have called me. What are you up to, bitch?" In his rage, he found the strength to make his way over to Agent Stahl, who was still seated in one of the waiting room chairs. He towered over her menacingly. Slowly, so as not to startle Jax into acting out violently, Stahl rose from her seat. Jax backed up just enough for her to stand.

"My guess is that Charming PD is informing Mrs. Morrow right about now of her husband's passing," she explained. "I'm sure the queen bee will be calling soon. Once next of kin has been notified, the official report will be released, so I'd expect that SAMCRO will be contacting you as well. But due to the close, personal relationship you and I have formed over the past few years, I wanted to come out and tell you myself, face to face." It took every ounce of self control Jax had to not slap the smile from Stahl's face. "Any idea who might have had reason to kill Clay?" she asked.

"Are you fucking serious?!" Opie yelled, coming out from behind the counter. He took his place at Jax's side, putting a steadying hand on his brother's shoulder. "Half of the people in the state of California wanted Clay Morrow dead."

"Including the two of you," Stahl accused. "Consider yourselves suspects." She winked at Jax, then turned and walked out the door, her black heels clicking against the linoleum. Jax exhaled, taking a seat in the chair Stahl had just vacated.

"I'm so sorry, brother," Opie said, squeezing Jax's shoulder. "What can I do?" Jax shook his head.

"I've got no idea." He rested his head in his hands, trying to ignore the throbbing pain. "I need to borrow your bike," he said. "I gotta get to Gemma."

"Sure," Opie said, fishing his keys out of the deep pockets of his oversized jeans. "You sure you're okay to ride?" Jax nodded, standing up and taking Opie's keys. His best friend enveloped him in a tight embrace. "You be careful brother."

"I will. I'll call you as soon as I get shit figured out," he promised. He ran to the parking lot, hopped on Opie's bike and fired it up. Just as he was about to take off, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Gemma," he muttered, turning off the ignition. The number on his caller ID wasn't his mother's, though. It was one he didn't recognize. "Hello?"

"I just got my discharge papers," Tara announced, without as much as a hello. She was calling from the phone in her room. The hurt in her voice over being abandoned at the hospital was palpable. "When can you be here?" Jax hung his head. This wasn't the first time he'd been forced to choose between his wife and his mother. But when he made the decision to leave the club for Tara and the boys, he'd promised her, and himself, that it would never again be a choice. His wife and children came first. Always.

"I'm on my way," he promised.

He took off his helmet and set it on the seat of Opie's bike, leaving the keys in the ignition. "Ope, change of plans," he yelled back toward the shop as he made his way to Dr. Tina's Prius. "Keys are in the ignition." Opie waved in understanding, nodding his head. Jax could see the interstate from the parking lot. He could feel the pull of Charming in his bones. His mother needed him. His club needed him. What that meant for the future, he had no idea. But his wife and their new baby needed him more. Jackson Teller's return to Charming would have to wait.


	16. Chapter 16

Opie watched out the front window of Jackson-Winston Auto Repair as his best friend tore out of the parking lot in a silver Prius, headed toward home. Under different circumstances, the sight of Jax Teller driving a hybrid would have been laughable.

Opie would have to retrieve his keys from his bike at some point, but he wasn't too worried. The parking lot was otherwise deserted, and the town surrounding it was peaceful and virtually crime free. Fog Hollow, Oregon was the type of town where everyone knew everyone and people left their doors unlocked, even at night. The Winstons and Tellers were by far the most formidable families in the area, despite their attempts to fit in with the rest of the townsfolk. If anyone ever got the idea to steal a car or a bike, it certainly wouldn't be Opie's.

He sat down in the old office chair behind the counter, his legs feeling weak. He was in shock. Clay Morrow was dead. He couldn't believe it. Ever since Donna's death, Opie had fought the urge to seek vigilante justice against her killers on a daily basis. The only thing that stopped him from going after Clay was his love and respect for the president of the motorcycle club he'd grown up in.

Clay was like a surrogate father to Opie when he was a child. He was his idol, his mentor, his family. Once Opie patched into SAMCRO, Clay became his brother and his leader. But he was also the man responsible for his wife's death, and for leaving his children motherless. Opie could never forgive him for that.

Clay's death was game changing, Opie knew that. He just didn't know how. He exhaled deeply, a sea of emotions threatening to catch him in its undertow and drown him. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or devastated that Clay was gone. It was something he'd wanted for so long, but now that it had finally come to pass, he didn't feel the way he thought he would about it.

He took his beat up leather wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open. He reached into a hidden fold behind his maxed out credit cards and pulled out a small, faded picture. A dull ache tore through his heart as he ran his thumb over Donna's smiling face. "It's finally over, babe," he whispered. He held the photo to his lips for a long moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. The weight of Donna's death seemed to grow heavier with each passing day. He loved Lyla and was happy enough in their life together, but she was no Donna.

He tucked the photo back into his wallet and reached for his phone, which was on his desk next to his now stale cup of coffee. He dialed Piney's number, but it went straight to voicemail. His father's phone was almost always dead or turned off. Piney's philosophy was that if someone wanted to reach him bad enough, they'd find him.

"Damn it, old man," Opie grumbled. He wondered if Piney knew, and what his reaction would be. Like Opie, he'd never quite recovered from Donna's death. He took another deep breath and dialed Lyla's number. He supposed she and the kids better get packing. Whatever else their future might hold now, a road trip to Charming was inevitable.

Lyla dug through her oversized purse for her phone, desperate to find it before it stopped ringing. Her husband didn't like it when she didn't answer his calls. It made him worry. She tried to steady her breathing as she wrapped her fingers around her phone and pulled it out of her bag. She didn't want Opie to know she'd been crying.

"Hey, baby," she said, with as much cheer as she could muster. She was sitting on a bench outside of her OB/GYN's office, trying to wrap her head around the devastating news she'd just been given- trying to figure out how to break it to Opie without destroying their family.

"We need to talk," Opie said, his voice somber. Lyla's heart began to race. Did he know? How could he? Doctors were bound by some sort of confidentiality agreement, weren't they?

"About what?" she asked, hoping she sounded more nonchalant than paranoid.

"Clay's dead," Opie said. The words themselves were simple enough, but their implication was mighty. _Clay Morrow…dead?_ Lyla was always of the belief that he was immortal or some shit.

"What?!" she gasped. "Oh my _God_!"

"That bitch Stahl came by the shop to break the news to Jax a little while ago." The emotion in Opie's voice was unreadable. Lyla had no idea how he was feeling. She didn't imagine he did, either.

"Wow," she breathed. She wiped the remnants of tears from her cheeks. She was done crying now. With this news, her pity party was over. It would be days, possibly weeks, before anything would matter in the Winston household more than the death of the SAMCRO kingpin. In all truth, Lyla was relieved. She wasn't ready to go down that road with Opie just yet.

"Yeah," Opie agreed, sounding distant. "Anyway, I figure if we don't head back today, we'll go tomorrow. Just wanted to give you a heads up so you can start packing."

"Head back?" she asked.

"Lyla, my brothers need me right now," Opie explained.

"No, I know," Lyla agreed quickly. "Just…when you say 'head back,' how long are we talking here?" Opie let out a long, contemplative breath.

"I don't know, babe. Three, four days, maybe?" he guessed. Lyla smiled, relieved.

"Okay," she said. "I think I can handle that."

"Good," Opie replied.

"Hey Ope?" she added.

"Yeah?"

"I love you." There was a catch in her throat as she said the words. She hoped, in spite of what lied ahead, that he knew how true that was.

"Love you too," Opie said, hanging up the phone.

Lyla remained on the bench, staring at her hands. She needed a manicure so badly. That was originally on her afternoon agenda, but this day had turned out much differently than she'd expected, in more ways than one.

After her fifth negative pregnancy test in as many months, Lyla made an appointment with a fertility specialist. She and Opie had been trying to have a baby for over a year, with no luck. The irony of not being able to get pregnant when she wanted to, after several unplanned pregnancies in her past, was not lost on Lyla. She figured she might need hormone therapy to assist in the process or something, as she was no longer the fertile young thing she'd once been. Her biological clock was ticking, so to speak. And it seemed that clock needed a tune-up.

What she didn't expect was for the doctor to inform her that she would never again be able to have a baby. An ultrasound revealed extensive uterine scarring, likely a result of multiple terminated pregnancies. Unless the Winstons were willing to consider surrogacy or adoption, they'd never have a child together. Lyla was crushed. She couldn't stop thinking about her last abortion, while Opie was in Ireland helping Jax look for Abel.

They were only dating at the time, and she wasn't sure where their relationship was going. But if she'd known it was her and Opie's only chance to have a child together, she would have made a different choice. She loved that man more than anything on the planet, aside from their kids. She wanted nothing more than for them to have a baby together, to complete their family. But because she'd killed their first baby, God decided they could never have another one. It was fair, she supposed, in some sick way, but how would she ever tell Opie?

She kept the abortion a secret, not wanting Opie to hate her the way she hated herself for going through with it. She'd terminated two pregnancies prior to that one, but those times were different. She didn't love those men, and they didn't love her. She was just "taking care of a situation," not killing a precious piece of the family that meant everything to her. Those other terminated pregnancies didn't haunt her. Her lost baby with Opie always would.

Lyla stood up, smoothing out her fitted pink t-shirt and faded, ripped up jeans. Two women passed her on the sidewalk as she was pulling her hair into a messy ponytail to keep it from blowing in her face. Oregon was much windier than she remembered California ever being. Lyla offered them a polite wave. She thought she recognized them, but couldn't place their faces. The women, both in their forties and dressed in pantsuits, smiled back- too sweetly to be sincere. One of them leaned in and whispered something to the other. They both glanced back at Lyla, snickered, and went about their way.

"Fucking perfect addition to the perfect day," Lyla muttered, trying to act as though her feelings weren't as hurt as they were. She tried so hard to fit in among her new peers, but it was never good enough. She joined the PTA, took snacks to the kids' soccer games, volunteered at the hospital, helped Jax and Opie at the shop. She was so normal, it was mind-numbingly boring. But her looks alone were enough to alienate her from the other mothers. And when the men around town started recognizing her from their "personal movie collections," word spread like wildfire about her old life. The gossip was so bad for a while, Opie wanted to move. But the kids were happy in their new school, Lyla loved the new house, and the shop was doing well. They were putting down roots after severing the ones that ran so deep for so long. She refused to give that up because of a few jealous whores and catty bitches.

Lyla's grief over the loss of the baby she would never have and her shock over the news of Clay's death began giving way to a different emotion. Rage. She contemplated chasing the women down, pouncing on them, and clawing their eyes out so they could never roll them in her direction again. Instead, she hopped into her electric blue Mustang, revved the engine, and pulled up alongside the judgmental bitches in cheap pantsuits.

"Hey girls," she called sweetly. Stunned, they both stopped and turned to look at her, neither saying a word. Lyla focused her gaze on the one closest to her. "You're Jim's wife, right? Your husband owns the hardware store down on First Street?"

"You know my husband?" the woman asked, not amused. Lyla giggled.

"I do indeed. I was hoping you could do me a favor," she said.

"What's that?" the woman asked.

"Could you have a talk with him about all the calls and texts he's been sending me? He's a nice guy and all, and I'm flattered that he wants me to 'take a ride on his hog,' but I'm a married woman, and my husband's got all the hog I can handle." She grinned wickedly as the women's jaws dropped. "Careful now," she added. "Might swallow a fly." She honked her horn before she sped away, laughing to herself as she turned on the radio.

That was exactly what she needed. Well, that, and a little Notorious B.I.G. She cranked the volume as she sang along: "I'm going, going, back, back, to Cali, Cali!" While the circumstances weren't ideal, Lyla was going home- to a place where motorcycle gangs and beautiful girls were idolized, not hated on and discriminated against. And she couldn't wait.


	17. Chapter 17

"Fucking aye," Trinity mumbled, her eyes flying open as the plane's wheels made contact with the runway, jarring everything (and everyone) in the cabin. Her flying companion chuckled. Trinity smiled, sitting up as she tried to get her bearings.

"Sleep well?" Juice asked, leaning to whisper into her ear. When his lips touched her skin, he kissed her softly.

"Hi," Trinity whispered back, resting her head on his shoulder. Juice wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, breathing in her delicious scent. He sighed, shaking his head. This was bad. He'd never been known for his good choices, but this was one of his worst by far. He wasn't sure what to expect when he and Trinity planned their secret Las Vegas rendezvous, but he was certainly counting on the old adage, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." And his feelings for Trinity had definitely not stayed in Vegas. In fact, he was pretty sure they'd multiplied at least ten-fold during their hour-long flight back to California. "What's wrong?" Trinity asked, turning her face up toward his.

"Nothin'," he responded, kissing her soft, sweet lips. Nothing except for the fact that he'd pretty much signed his own death warrant. Until Vegas, Juice's relationship with Trinity was nothing more than an exhilarating game. They'd nearly hooked up at Abel's birthday party weeks before, but hadn't seen each other since. They talked on the phone, sent text messages back and forth (and occasionally a naughty picture or two), but it was all innocent enough. Juice just liked talking to her. She was cute and funny, smart and independent. She wasn't like the crow eaters he normally kept himself busy with, who were all about earning the title of "old lady" by any means necessary. Trinity was already SAMCRO royalty. What they had was exciting because it was forbidden. It wasn't serious. Juice could have walked away at any point. But now…

Juice Ortiz had never been in love, but he imagined this had to be pretty close to what it felt like. He'd been fantasizing for weeks over all the different ways he was going to fuck Trinity, hoping the sex was at least good enough that the rest of their trip wouldn't be too awkward, since they were stuck together for an entire weekend. But what happened between them was more than that. They didn't just fuck, they made love. They connected in a way Juice had never connected with anyone before.

He was so focused on pleasuring Trinity, he couldn't think about anything else. When she came, all he wanted was to make her come again, and again. And when they were both too exhausted and out of breath to do anything other than lie in the king-sized bed in their penthouse suite, he was content just to hold her; to smell her hair and feel her skin on his; to listen to her breathe as she slept, and kiss her lips when she woke. He was in deep. Deeper than he'd ever been. And he had no goddamn clue what to do about it.

"I don't want it to be over," Trinity lamented, sticking her lower lip out in pouty protest. It took every bit of self-restraint Juice had to keep himself from biting her lip and ripping her clothes off, right there in the middle of the plane.

"Me either," he agreed. There was no way Juice could walk away from her now, which was a problem, because that was exactly what Jax was going to demand he do when he found out what was going on. And he was bound to find out, probably sooner rather than later.

Trinity swallowed hard as the plane came to a stop. She didn't want to leave Juice. There was a part of her that wanted him to ask her to go back to Charming with him. But she knew that was a horrible idea. She would have to talk to her brother about her relationship with Juice, ease him into the idea. She couldn't just slap him in the face with it.

Their Las Vegas trip had been planned and executed perfectly. Juice's cover was simple- he said he had to attend a cousin's wedding out of town. Trinity's was a bit more complicated. Chibs was treating his daughter to a weekend in Vegas for her birthday, and Trinity was invited to tag along. She "accidentally" booked herself on the wrong round trip flight, so that Kerianne and Chibs wouldn't recognize the mohawked biker in the seat next to her. Then, shortly after checking into the hotel, she came down with a stomach ache, which managed to turn into the full-blown flu within a couple hours. She spent the entire weekend stuck in her room while Chibs and Kerianne explored the town. They checked on her occasionally, during which time Juice hid in the bathroom.

It all went according to plan. The only thing Trinity didn't plan on was how fast it would go. The one-on-one time together, the sex, the conversation- it was all absolutely perfect. Better than perfect. The thought of having to say goodbye to Juice, not knowing when she was going to see him again, broke Trinity's heart. She was falling for the Man of Mayhem. And she was pretty sure he was falling for her, too.

As the rows in front of Trinity and Juice began to empty, they stood up and gathered their belongings, inching toward the aisle. Trinity fought back tears as Juice put his hand on the small of her back.

"Hey," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know that cab ride from the airport back to Fog Hollow is almost three hours long." Juice had offered to ride with Trinity from the airport to the Fog Hollow city limit so that they could have some more time together, even though Charming was in the complete opposite direction. She smiled slightly, nodding.

"I know," she said.

"Trinity," Juice began, hating to see her so upset.

"Yeah?" He gazed at her for a long moment, into the beautiful blue eyes he'd come to know so well over the past few days. He wanted to tell her not to go back to Fog Hollow. He wanted to take her to Charming with him and never let her go. But that was crazy. Juice wasn't the type of guy to settle down. And he certainly couldn't do so with Jax Teller's little sister.

"Nothin'," he breathed, kissing her on the forehead. They made their way slowly down the aisle and off the plane. Once they reached the baggage claim, Trinity left Juice to find a restroom. When she returned, she found him standing at the windows overlooking the street, their bags at his feet. She sneaked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his familiar leather cut.

"Guess who?" she giggled. Juice sighed heavily, turning around. His eyes were red, and his face was solemn. "What's wrong?" she asked. Juice chewed on his lip for a moment before answering.

"It's Clay," he said, his voice catching in his throat. Trinity searched his sad eyes for more of an explanation than that. Even if Clay somehow found out about their weekend together, Trinity couldn't imagine he would care much. He hated her brother, and probably loved to see him upset. "He's dead," Juice added.

"What?!" Trinity covered her mouth with her hand, in complete in utter shock. "Are you…wh- how?" Juice looked away, back toward the window, blinking back tears. It was a dumb question. Of course he couldn't give her details.

"Jesus, honey, I'm so sorry. What can I do? Do you want me to go back to Charming with you?"

"No," Juice answered. "You need to go home, Trinity. And so do I."

"Please let me help you," Trinity begged. She knew how much Juice looked up to Clay, and how badly he must be hurting.

"I'm fine," Juice said, clearing his throat. "Let's go." He picked up their bags and Trinity followed him outside. Within seconds, he'd hailed her a cab.

"Will I see you soon?" she asked, burying herself into his chest, trying not to cry.

"I don't know," he answered, pulling away from her. He kissed her on the cheek, much like someone would kiss their grandmother, and helped her into the cab. She waved as the cab driver pulled away from the curb, her heart breaking. Juice didn't wave back. Trinity watched in the rear view mirror as Juice grew smaller and smaller, tears rolling down her face. Whatever the two of them had started in Vegas, whatever they might have had- Clay's death changed all of that. Clay's death, she suspected, would change everything.


	18. Chapter 18

Jax shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of Dr. Tina's Prius, his knees practically in his chest. If he thought the driver's seat was a tight squeeze, sitting in the back had to be some sort of modern day torture.

Tara was seated in front of him, looking thoughtfully out the window, completely oblivious to his plight. She hadn't said two words to him since he'd arrived back at the hospital to pick her up. And due to Tina's constant presence, he hadn't yet had a chance to explain why he abandoned her.

Tara's release from the hospital coincided with the end of Tina's shift, so they were both waiting impatiently for Jax in the emergency room lobby when he arrived. Tina smiled politely, taking her keys and attempting to decline the gas money Jax insisted on giving her. Tara, on the other hand, was pissed. She didn't so much as make eye contact with her husband as an orderly wheeled her out to Tina's car, which was waiting at the curb. Jax attempted to help her out of the wheelchair and into the car, but she pushed him away.

Jax opened the rear passenger door as soon as Tina pulled into his driveway, not even waiting for her to put the car in park. He stretched his legs, letting out a sigh of relief as he stood up. He opened Tara's door and helped her out of the car, being mindful of her injured hand and foot. She had crutches, but she would have to put pressure on her hand to use them. So, like it or not, she was stuck accepting Jax's help. He lifted her cautiously into his arms, smiling as they made eye contact for the first time in hours. She wrapped her arms around his neck for good measure, but her posture was rigid.

"Do you guys need any help getting settled?" Tina asked through the car window.

"No, I got it," Jax assured her. "Thanks for all your help today."

"Sure," she said, turning to Tara. "You call me if you need anything," she added, as if Jax's promise to take care of her wasn't enough. Tara nodded. Jax carried his wife up the porch steps, shifting her weight to one arm as he retrieved his keys from his pocket. He opened the front door and took Tara to the couch, setting her down gently.

"You okay?" he asked, his face inches from hers.

"I'm fine," she responded, turning her head.

"Tara-"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted him. "You left me in the hospital."

"I know, babe, but-"

"In the _hospital_, Jax. With a sprained ankle and a mangled hand and our baby, who just got into his or her first motorcycle accident today. How could you do that?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she stopped him. "You know what? Nevermind. It doesn't matter. There is nothing you could possibly say that will excuse what you did." Jax sat down on the couch next to his wife.

"Clay's dead," he said, very matter-of-factly. Tara was taken aback.

"What did you just say?" Her voice was quiet, all the fight knocked out of her with those two little words.

"The call I got at the hospital from Ope," Jax explained. "Stahl was at the shop. Said she wanted to tell me in person." Tara clenched her jaw at the mention of June Stahl's name. She hated that bitch.

"Oh my God," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "How's Gemma?" Jax shook his head.

"No idea," he told her. "You called right after Stahl left, so I came straight to the hospital. I had to turn my phone off, she was blowing it up so bad. Didn't want to call her until after I had a chance to talk to you." Tara's face softened. She swallowed hard. It was no fun feeling like an asshole. "She's going to want us to come there," he warned her.

"Oh my God," Tara said again, seeming to realize something. She tried to stand, but her pain knocked her back down. "Jax, we have to go. We have to go now!" He looked at her, confused. "Gemma has Thomas."

"Shit," Jax murmured. With all that had happened that afternoon, it somehow escaped his mind that his mom was taking care of his baby boy. She was a questionable caretaker on a good day. And this was definitely not a good day.

"Help me up," Tara insisted, reaching out her free hand. Jax shook his head.

"No way," he said. "You need to rest."

"What I need is to go get my little boy away from your mother, who is probably completely insane right now." Tears stung Tara's eyes. "I need to take care of my baby."

"Yes," Jax agreed, placing his hand protectively over her stomach. "You do." Tara smiled, letting out a ragged breath in an attempt to keep from crying. "I agree with you that Gemma's probably going nuts, but she would never let Thomas see that. I'll call her, see where she's at. Wayne's there with her. And if I know Opie, he's already got Lyla packing. I'll ask them to head back today, so that Lyla can take care of Thomas until we get there tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?! Jax, no-"

"Tomorrow," Jax demanded. "You are gonna stay put and let me wait on you hand and foot for the rest of the day. Then you're going to get a good night's sleep, and in the morning, we'll leave for Charming. Okay?" Tara nodded reluctantly. Jax kissed her still trembling lips, getting up from the couch. He took a deep breath and dialed his mother's number as he walked out of the room.

Tara leaned back into the couch, her head throbbing. She closed her eyes, resting her hands on her abdomen. She wondered how it was possible that she hadn't noticed how hard and pooched out it had become in recent weeks. It seemed so obvious now. And how had she managed to overlook one, possibly two, missed periods? She was just so damn busy all the time…

"Hi, little baby," she whispered, a smile on her face. She thought about what Jax had said, how sure he was that it was a girl. "My little Grace," she said, trying the name out. She'd always dreamt of having a little girl to name after her mother. She'd be thrilled with another boy, of course, but the thought of Jax Teller with a daughter was almost too much to handle.

Just as she was starting to nod off, Tara heard the front door creak open. Out of habit, she snapped to attention, instantly regretting the sudden movement.

"Hey," Trinity said meekly, looking as if she'd been crying.

"Hey," Tara repeated. "Welcome home. You okay?"

"Where's Jackson?" Trinity asked.

"In the kitchen, I think. Why?"

"I heard about Clay," Trinity told her.

"How did you- oh, right. Kerianne." Trinity nodded in agreement, even though she hadn't spoken to Kerianne since they checked out of the hotel in Vegas that morning.

"How is he?" Trinity asked, setting her bags down and closing the door. "Jesus! What happened to you?" she added, noticing Tara's collection of scrapes, bruises and bandages.

"Jax is teaching me how to ride," Tara explained, smiling.

"Looks like you had a bang up first day," Trinity teased. Tara laughed, then groaned in pain, clutching her ribs.

"Sorry," Trinity giggled. "Is my brother okay?"

"I think so," Tara said. "He's on the phone with Gemma right now. How about you? Are you okay?" Trinity nodded, looking past Tara, out the window. "Good." Tara wasn't convinced. "Well, I wouldn't unpack those bags just yet," she told her sister-in-law.

"Why's that?" Trinity asked.

"Because we're leaving for Charming in the morning," Tara told her. Trinity's bottom lip began to quiver as she fought back tears. "Trinity?" Tara was confused. Trinity shook her head, bolting from the room, down the hall, and slamming her bedroom door. On a normal day, Tara would have gone after her to see what was wrong. But this was turning out to be the most abnormal day Tara Knowles-Teller could ever remember having.


	19. Chapter 19

Tara tried to catch her breath, but she felt like she was suffocating. There was something about the air in Charming, especially in that clubhouse, that made it nearly impossible to breathe. A toxicity of some sort, a poison that had polluted the community long ago and refused to loosen its grip.

It had been nearly a week since the Teller family's triumphant return to Charming, and the more Jax and the boys settled into their "old life," the more unsettled Tara became. She and Jax had come so far in the few years since they'd left the shithole town they were raised in together, vowing to never return. The life of peace and normalcy they'd worked so hard to build in Oregon was everything to her. And as she watched her husband take his seat at the head of the makeshift banquet table at Clay's wake, which was held in the SAMCRO clubhouse, his former club members flanking him, looking to him for guidance, she felt it all slipping away.

Ironically enough, it was Tara who'd been in a rush to get to Charming. All she could think about was Thomas, and how she'd been an idiot for letting Gemma take him. She should have known something awful would happen. In that town, it always did. She was so focused on saving her son, she didn't give much thought to everything else going home would mean.

By the time Jax, Tara and Trinity arrived in Charming, Lyla and Opie had already booted Ima and her whore friends to the curb and taken over Clay's house. Technically, the house now belonged to Gemma. But the grieving widow had no desire to return to her marital home, and was perfectly comfortable remaining in Jax and Tara's old house with Unser.

Tara wasn't thrilled about the idea of staying in Clay's house, but it made sense, she supposed. It was bigger than her old house, so there would be room for everyone- her, Jax, the boys, Trinity, Opie, Lyla, their kids. The house was a mess, but Lyla had already begun the process of sanitizing it before the Tellers got there. Tara wasn't able to be of much use due to her damaged condition, but Trinity immediately began helping Lyla get the place in order. Together, they stripped all the beds and bought new sheets and blankets, deep cleaned the bathrooms, steam cleaned the carpets, and aired the place out as much as possible, in hopes of ridding it of the stench of cigars and pussy. It was livable, but it wasn't home. And Tara didn't want it to ever begin to feel like one.

After getting Tara and Thomas settled, Jax spent the rest of that first day taking care of Gemma, which turned out to be a good thing, because just as Jax was trying to talk her into joining everyone for dinner at Clay's, there was a knock at the door. Unser was passed out in his favorite recliner, the only thing he'd brought with him besides the clothes on his back when he moved in with Gemma, and Gemma was staring blankly at the TV, taking long puffs of the dwindling joint she had pinched between her thumb and index finger.

"I'll get it," Jax offered, rising from his spot on the couch next to his mother. Lieutenant Eli Roosevelt from the San Joaquin County Sheriff's Department seemed surprised to be greeted by the prodigal son of SAMCRO.

"Jackson Teller," he announced, nodding to himself as if it should have been obvious that Jax would return home upon the news of Clay's passing.

"Lieutenant Roosevelt," Jax responded. "How's the family?" The straight-laced cop and former bad boy had only butted heads briefly, as the San Joaquin County Sheriff's Department invaded Charming just as Jax was making his exit. Jax didn't mind him too much, for a cop. He'd dealt with much worse. Aside from his desire to dismember SAMCRO, Roosevelt seemed like a decent guy.

"Doing good," the lieutenant said. "Daughter just turned two, getting into everything. Business is good at the wife's flower shop. But I didn't come here to catch up." Jax feigned disappointment.

"Then how can I help you, lieutenant?" Eli Roosevelt pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, flashing it in Jax's face.

"Search warrant," he explained. "I'm going to need you and all other occupants of the house to step outside."

"Jesus Christ," Jax sighed. "Mom, Wayne, come on." While Gemma spouted off about her constitutional rights and the sheriff's office's abuse of authority, Wayne inspected the search warrant, probably in an attempt to discredit it. After going over it line by line, Wayne let out a defeated sigh, handing it back to Eli.

"Come on, Gem," he said.

"This is bullshit," she hissed, resisting as Unser pulled her gently by the arm.

"Mom," Jax said, sounding annoyed. "Come on. They're just doing their job. Don't be difficult."

Once outside, Gemma leaned against one of the police cruisers in the driveway, watching as her house was ransacked by nearly a dozen officers.

"What the hell are they lookin' for?" she asked nervously.

"You tell me," Jax answered.

"Don't start your shit, Jackson," she warned. "I got nothin' to hide." While Jax was sure they wouldn't find what they were most likely looking for- proof that Gemma had something to do with Clay's death- he was equally sure that his mother had plenty to hide. That woman's secrets were many. Jax just hoped she wasn't hiding any of them in his house.

After what felt like forever, Lieutenant Roosevelt emerged from the house, accompanied by an officer holding what appeared to be several sealed evidence bags.

"Shit," Jax breathed. Gemma shot Wayne a worried look. He rubbed her back reassuringly. Roosevelt made a beeline for Gemma, not making eye contact with Jax or Wayne.

"Gemma Teller-Morrow," he began. "You're under arrest for the murder of Clay Morrow…" Jax closed his eyes, tuning out the obligatory reading of his mother's Miranda rights as she was searched and cuffed. He'd heard and seen it all too many times before.

Tara wasn't surprised to learn that her mother-in-law had been arrested for Clay's murder, despite the fact that Gemma was steadily proclaiming her innocence. There was a part of Tara that was relieved to have Gemma locked up. The last thing she needed was Gemma constantly in Jax's ear about moving home for good. Tara could already see the effect being back in Charming was having on her husband. He didn't need any outside influences making things worse. But with Gemma's arrest, Tara knew her trip back to Charming wouldn't be a quick one. There was no way Jax would leave with his mother in jail.

She watched from the bar, which had been turned into a buffet for the wake, as Jax talked and laughed with his former brothers from the head of their pool table-turned-banquet table. Abel, who had just arrived in Charming that morning on the heels of his Florida trip with Wendy and Nero, was in his father's lap, playing quietly with the Spiderman action figure Clay had gotten him for his birthday, the last time Abel would ever see his grandfather alive. Thomas was asleep in the bedroom that had served as Jax's second home for many years, exhausted from the day's macabre festivities.

This was the life they'd talked about for so long- Jax taking over the club after Clay stepped down. The two of them, the unofficial king and queen of Charming. Together, they would change things. Jax would take the club in a different direction. Tara would help him leave a better legacy for their sons to someday inherit. But when they decided they couldn't wait for that day to come, that they had to take immediate action to save their relationship and the boys' futures, they'd found something else- something better. Life outside of Charming was better than Tara ever imagined it could be. And Jax away from SAMCRO was a better man, father, and husband than she ever thought possible. She couldn't give that up. She wouldn't.

The weight of her two lives colliding began to close in on her, making the normally spacious clubhouse feel very small. She offered Chuckie a polite smile as he tended to the buffet, then hobbled outside on her crutches, taking a deep breath of the fresh afternoon air as soon as it hit her face. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was at home in her beautiful back yard instead of in the bleak Teller Morrow parking lot.

"You alright, darlin'?" Trinity asked. Her voice was unmistakable. Tara opened her eyes, spotting her sister-in-law sitting at one of the picnic tables on the lot, babying a beer. She looked about as good as Tara felt. Tara smiled.

"Sure. You?" She took a seat next to Trinity at the table, both of them staring at the closed gate, watching what they could see of the passing traffic through the fence.

"I'm great," Trinity answered, not the least bit convincingly. Something had been bothering her since she returned from Vegas, and whatever it was seemed to be getting worse. Tara opened her mouth to ask her what was wrong, but changed her mind when the clubhouse door creaked open.

"Everything okay out here?" Lyla asked, poking her head out.

"Yup," Tara and Trinity assured her, in unison. Lyla sauntered out and sat down beside Tara, following her and Trinity's gaze. For a long moment, none of them spoke, each lamenting over their own personal demons. Trinity took a sip of her beer, then offered it to Tara. Tara shook her head.

"I'm pregnant," she said, very matter-of-factly. "Just found out." Lyla grabbed the beer from Trinity and took a long gulp.

"I'm sterile," she explained. "Just found out." She passed the beer back to Trinity, who downed what was left of it.

"I slept with Juice," she announced. "Just happened." The three of them sat in stunned silence, all reeling from the bombshells that had just been dropped. Finally, Tara let out a long sigh, followed by a giggle that surprised her as much as it did the other girls. They both looked at her. She laughed again, this time louder and without apology. After a few seconds, Lyla joined her, followed almost immediately by Trinity. The three of them laughed until they cried, and then laughed some more. They were laughing so hard, they didn't hear the door open.

"Something funny, ladies?" asked Juice Ortiz, who'd stepped outside for a smoke. They all stopped, wide eyed, looked at him, then looked at each other, and started laughing hysterically once more.


	20. Chapter 20

"Aw, shit…" Jax grumbled as he and Opie pulled into the driveway of Clay Morrow's very dark house. Following Clay's wake, the two of them had visited some of their old haunts with the guys, and what Jax had originally promised Tara would be "just a beer or two" turned into several beers very quickly. Time had gotten away from them, and now they were in deep shit. "This is all your fault," he told Opie.

"How do you figure?" Opie asked, following Jax up the front walk.

"Because you're the one that wanted to go out," Jax explained. Opie chuckled, shaking his head. Jax pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, quietly pushing it open. From the living room, he and Opie could see down the hall to the bedrooms. Tara and Jax's room was pitch black, but a light glow filtered out from under Lyla and Opie's door. Opie smiled.

"Well, good luck with the Mrs.," Opie teased. "I'm gonna go have sex now. With my wife. The porn star." Jax slapped Opie in the back of the head as they parted ways. Not quite ready to sleep, but not wanting to wake Tara, Jax headed into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water.

"Can I get you some Tylenol to go with that?" came a voice from behind him. He jumped.

"Jesus, Trinity," he hissed. "What are you doing out here in the dark?" His little sister was seated at the small dinette in the kitchen, her phone in her hands. She'd been completely concealed by the shadows.

"Just thinkin'," she said. "Care to join me?" Jax opened his bottle of water, taking a long gulp as he sat down across from Trinity. "Have fun?" she asked.

"Not really," he told her, shaking his head. "Just the same old shit. Nothing ever changes around here."

"Aye," Trinity agreed. "That's what I hear. And that's exactly what Tara's afraid of."

"What are you talking about?" Jax asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Tara and I had a little chat tonight," Trinity told him. "You know, sister to sister. I know about the new wee one, Jackson." Jax smiled. He and Tara hadn't talked much about the baby since arriving back in Charming.

"Tara told you?" he asked.

"She did," Trinity said. "And she also told me that she's worried she's going to lose you again- to this town, the club…your mother."

"That's ridiculous," Jax said, shaking his head. Trinity reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on her brother's.

"Then tell her that, Jackson," she whispered, squeezing his hand. Jax stood up, kissed his little sister on the forehead, and headed to bed. He hoped his wife was sound asleep, so that the inevitable talk about their stay in Charming could be put off until morning.

Trinity waited until she heard Jax close his bedroom door, then turned her phone over in her hands. She had four missed texts, all from Juice. _Sorry_, she typed quickly. _Be out in a minute. My brother nearly caught me_. She got up from the table and tiptoed to the back door, quietly opening and closing it. There was a chill in the night air, and Trinity wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she made her way down the side yard, wishing she'd grabbed a jacket. She smiled when she saw Juice waiting for her at the end of the street.

After their awkward encounter that afternoon at Clay's wake, Juice sent Trinity a text asking if they could talk. She was cautiously optimistic that he'd worked through whatever shit was haunting him, and hopeful that they'd be able to get their relationship back on track. (After he apologized profusely, of course.) But one look at his face, and Trinity's heart sank. Whatever he wanted to talk about wasn't good.

"Wanna go for a ride?" Juice asked, motioning toward his bike. Trinity shook her head.

"I'd rather walk," she mumbled, failing to make eye contact with Juice as she started down the sidewalk.

"Sure," he agreed, following behind her with his hands in his pockets. "Hey, uh…you looked really pretty today," he offered.

"Jesus Christ," Trinity laughed, spinning around on her heels. She glared at Juice. "You didn't call me out here in the middle of the night to compliment my funeral attire, Juan. Now what is it?" Juice nodded, talking a deep breath.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry." He gazed at Trinity, her eyes as much on fire as her hair, which was blowing wildly in the wind. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. He longed to wrap his arms around her to warm her up, to comfort her. But he knew he couldn't.

"I'm waiting," Trinity reminded him. Juice hung his head.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he said. "For before. Vegas, the whole thing with Clay- it was all just a lot at once and I didn't handle it well."

"Got that right," Trinity muttered, turning back around and continuing down the sidewalk, Juice behind her.

"Hey," he said, jogging to catch up with her. "I'm trying to apologize here. You're not making it very easy." Trinity exhaled, stopping in her path.

"Okay," she conceded. "Sorry. Proceed." Juice put his hands on Trinity's hips, pulling her close to him.

"Trinity, I like you," he confessed. "Like a lot. But Clay's death- it changes things. It changes everything, actually. And if Jax is coming back to the club, I can't defy him by dating his little sister."

"You really think my brother will go back to SAMCRO?" Trinity asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know," Juice said. "But until shit gets straightened out and we know what's what- this, us, it can't happen." He swallowed hard. Trinity nodded in agreement.

"I understand that," she said, taking Juice's face in her hands. She studied his eyes for a long moment. Her heart broke knowing what was coming next, but it had to be done. "But what you need to understand is that I'm not the kind of girl who's going to sit around and wait for the possibility of a chance. We're either doing this, right now, or we're not doing it at all." She blinked back tears, willing herself not to cry as she waited for Juice's response. He leaned in close and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I'm sorry," Juice whispered. Trinity bit her lip, hoping he didn't see how it was trembling. She nodded, pulling away from him.

"Goodbye, Juan Carlos," she said, turning to head back toward the house. She knew he would follow her home to make sure she made it safely. She could hear his footsteps close behind hers. A part of her wanted so badly to turn around and beg him to change his mind. But she knew she couldn't. And she knew he wouldn't. Juice was right. Clay's death had changed everything for everyone- Trinity included. Juice had a choice to make and he made it. She just hoped that her brother would fare better with the choices that awaited him.


	21. Chapter 21

Jax stood in the doorway to the master bedroom of the Morrow household as Tara hastily shoved her belongings into a duffel bag sitting in the middle of the bed. He kept opening his mouth, wanting to say something to make things right with his wife, but there was nothing left to say. Still, he had to try.

"Tara," he breathed, taking a tentative step toward her. She held up a hand to stop him, not bothering to look at him.

"Don't, Jax," she warned, discreetly wiping a tear from her face. "Just let me be."

"Tara, I'm sorry," he insisted. "If there was any other way…"

"There is another way, Jax. It's called the right way. It's called keeping your promise to me and to our children. You swore to me…you _swore_ to me that you wouldn't let this town and all the shit that goes with it suck you back in." Tara turned to her husband, wanting him to see the hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

"It hasn't sucked me back in!" he insisted. "It's not about Charming or the club. It's about-"

"Your mother," Tara interrupted. "Big surprise. When are things ever _not_ all about Gemma?"

"That's not fair," Jax argued. "I can't just go back to Oregon with my mom still in jail, Tara." Jax took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I have to stay until she's clear of this shit. I have to find out who really killed Clay."

"Of course you do!" Tara yelled. "God forbid you let the police do their jobs. Or- or God forbid you accept the fact that maybe Gemma's guilty and is exactly where she belongs!"

"My mom didn't kill Clay and you know it," Jax said calmly. Tara turned her back to him as she emptied the contents of her dresser drawers into her bag. She shook her head. Jax had never seen his mother clearly, and it was obvious to Tara that he never would.

"I knew this was going to happen," Tara whispered, more to herself than to Jax. "I fucking knew it." When she collapsed into uncontrollable tears, Jax pulled her down to the bed. He wrapped her in his arms, running his fingers through her hair.

"Tara, you're overreacting," he told her. "I know what you're afraid of, but this is not that. I'm not going back to SAMCRO. I'm not moving back to Charming. I'm just staying until I can get my mom out of jail. As soon as her charges are dropped, I'm coming home. I promise."

"I wish I could believe you," Tara sobbed. "But I've felt this coming since the moment we arrived in Charming. I knew, when I told you this morning that I wanted to go home, I would end up going alone. I knew you wouldn't leave."

Jax was relieved when he found Tara fast asleep after his talk with Trinity the night before. But he dreaded the morning, knowing what was coming. He had hoped to ease into the topic, to make Tara understand the reasons he had to stay before dropping the bomb on her that he wasn't ready to leave Charming just yet. But Tara being Tara, she knew something was going on before Jax was even awake. She roused him from his sleep with a kiss, and before he could even say good morning, she said the four little words that began World War Three.

"Let's go home today," she whispered as she laid her head on her husband's shoulder. Jax kissed her on the forehead, clearing his throat, still half asleep.

"Babe, I can't go home yet," he said. "You know that." Tara sat up in bed, immediately launching into a lengthy diatribe about how Jax was choosing the club over her and the boys. She'd obviously prepared it ahead of time, knowing she was going to need it. Jax tried to explain to her that he couldn't abandon his mother when she needed him most, but his reasons for staying fell on deaf ears. After a good hour of arguing back and forth, Jax left to get breakfast for everyone, and by the time he returned, Tara was already dressed and packing her and the boys' things.

"I understand that you and the boys are ready to go home," Jax said, still trying to calm his wife's sobs. "I would never make you stay here if you don't want to be here. I'll have Juice take you and Trinity and the boys home," he offered. Tara shot him a weary glance. Clearly, Jax's little sister hadn't had the heart to heart with him about Juice that she promised Tara she would. "He'll stay for as long as you need him to. Ope and Lyla will head back home in a couple of days, and I swear to you, as soon as Gemma's clear, I'll be right behind them."

"Jax, I need you," Tara admitted, hating to ever seem weak. Her husband was the strongest man she'd ever known. He needed a strong woman by his side. "The boys and I need you."

"I know," Jax said. "But right now, my mom needs me, too." He took Tara's face in his hands. "I promise you, Tara, I'm coming home. I'm not taking back my cut, I'm not taking back my table, and I'm not taking back this town. None of it means shit to me. The only thing that matters to me is family."

"Too bad you can't choose your family," Tara muttered. Jax laughed.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed.

"You promise you'll be home soon?" she asked.

"I promise you, Tara," Jax vowed, gazing deeply into his wife's eyes.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, nodding. "Now would you mind helping me finish packing? I didn't realize how much shit we brought with us."

"Of course I will," Jax said. "In a little bit." He took Tara's duffel bag from the bed and set it on the floor. She looked at him, curious. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her close to him. What she always seemed to forget was that as much as she needed Jax, he needed her more. He pressed his face gently against her belly, feeling the warmth of the new life they'd created together radiating from her skin. "You take care of your mama," he whispered. Tara smiled, grabbing Jax by the hair and turning his face up toward hers. She leaned over and kissed him.

Jax pulled his wife down on top of him, scooting back until they were in the center of the bed. He unbuttoned her blouse and watched her as she unbuckled his belt. They pulled of their pants and shirts in unison, giggling and kissing the entire time. Tara admired her husband's naked form as he lay on the bed. She ran her fingertips over his lips, down his chest, down the contours of his stomach.

She climbed on top of him and eased herself onto him, gasping at how good he felt inside her. They hadn't made love since the morning of her motorcycle accident. Her body had missed him. She moved back and forth, slowly at first, as Jax cupped her breasts with his hands and moaned in ecstasy.

"I love you, Jax," she murmured as her husband held onto her hips with his strong, beautiful hands. Their eyes met.

"I love you, Tara," he answered.


End file.
